Unforeseen Attraction
by Lemonzest023
Summary: Loki takes pleasure in annoying Tony Stark whenever he can. Things change suddenly, however, when he realizes he needs the man's help after a traumatic event leaves him desperate. Takes place in the months following The Avengers. Tony/Loki
1. All Work and No Play

**I've finally finished. I tried to update as often as possible, and I really appreciate those of you that kept coming back for more! You're amazing!**

**If you're starting this from the beginning****, don't be discouraged by the daunting number of chapters. I'm not overly fond of page breaks, so I often split sections into separate chapters despite their size.**

**Thanks again for reading! I hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

It was three in the morning on a Friday night, and Tony was glued to his workbench, as usual. He shook his head to himself in disbelief every hour or so that passed, thoroughly feeling like a complete idiot for spending his time working when he could be playing. A sigh escaped his lips as he stood, ready for another cup of coffee to help keep him conscious. He turned on his heel as he yawned.

"Something wrong?"

The sound nearly sent him flying him through the roof. He put one hand to his chest and the other in the air, fist clenched tightly around his empty coffee mug.

"Seriously, you need to knock this shit off," he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. He shut his eyes tightly as his fear was outweighed by annoyance.

"Terribly sorry for startling you. I was simply checking in. Quite late, you know?"

Tony nodded and pushed past the tall figure, pretending it was not there at all. He hastily made his way down the hall into the kitchen and poured himself another cup of coffee. The scent filled his nostrils and he immediately felt more alert. He poured a generous amount of creamer into the mug and stirred it around with his finger briefly. He sat down on a barstool and placed his mug on the cold marble countertop. He rested his elbows on its surface and rubbed his eyes.

He peeked through his fingers to see the dark figure standing before him, apparently having followed him soundlessly through the hallway.

"What could you be poring over at this hour?" said the soft, eloquent voice. Tony shook his head and looked up, noisily slurping his drink.

"New suit modifications. Some real fancy shit," he said with a wink as he continued to suck down the piping hot beverage. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the mass of leather and metal before him. Golden accents gleamed under the modest lighting, and his gaze met those two radiant emerald eyes. The God of Mischief stood before him, smirking.

"Ah yes, of course," Loki replied, placing his hands against the marble. "How very interesting," he added with an indifferent nod. Tony sighed, annoyed by the god's arrogance. He tapped his fingers against the chilly surface impatiently. It seemed to grow colder in Loki's presence.

The perpetual drumming steadily began to slow as Tony sipped from his cup silently. He almost didn't realize it himself until the sound reduced to a complete stop. He cleared his throat and lowered the mug to the countertop. It felt heavy in his hands. Something was wrong.

Tony furrowed his eyebrows and stared at his fingers. They felt numb. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He was furious, suddenly, but could not express himself. He shot Loki the most enraged glare he could muster before his vision began to blur. He felt himself falling, and was enveloped in darkness.


	2. No Hard Feelings

"Feeling alright, sir?"

Tony awoke with a start, immediately shielding his eyes from the light. He was lying on the couch, still dressed in his jeans and t-shirt. A blanket, or "decorativethrow" as Pepper liked to call it, was draped over him.

"I think so… thanks, Jarvis," he replied hoarsely.

He blinked and scanned the room, seeing no sign of the armor-clad god. He did, however, stumble upon a folded slip of paper perched atop the glass coffee table. He leaned over with a groan and snatched it up, squinting in the light to read it.  
_  
Stark,  
Thought you could use some rest. No hard feelings, right?  
- L._

P.S. I've eaten all of your potato chips.

Tony sighed, generally perturbed, though he could not deny that he felt better after such a deep sleep. He stretched his arms above his head and cracked his neck before getting to his feet. Better was an understatement.


	3. Unforeseen Catastrophe

It had been a solid month since Tony last heard from the trickster. With fewer setbacks, he was able to make more progress on his inventions, which was always nice. Though the god rarely destroyed anything particularly irreplaceable, his distractions and general mischief could drive a man insane. Tony already had a knack for misplacing things without the assistance of an outside source. Though, he had to confess, it had been a while since he'd gotten such a good night's sleep. He wondered what the mischievous little bastard could be getting himself into.

Suddenly, the sound of metal crashing against the floor echoed through the room as Tony worked through his equations, nearly causing him to shred a hole in his papers. Similar noises of commotion followed, and he shook his head in disbelief. What timing.

_Dammit, Jarvis. He gets by you every fucking time._

He tossed his pencil aside in frustration and heaved himself out of his stool to face the disturbance coming from down the hall. He was fully prepared to see his living room and kitchen in shambles, as it would not have been the first time that the sneaky bastard destroyed his things.

Another loud clang sounded, vibrating through the walls. He covered his ears, as it took a moment to stop. Carefully, Tony rounded the corner and stood against the wall, arms crossed in front of him coolly. He sighed as he noticed Loki's helmet on the floor, kicked clear across the room and against his refrigerator. It was no doubt the source of all that ruckus.

"Will you knock it off? Really, dude. I'm sure this is all very funny for you, but…" Tony stopped, noticing that the figure across the room was shaking, hunched over his marble countertop. He gulped. Was Loki enraged about something? Suddenly, he felt very uneasy. "Do I need to call the team in again?" he threatened, trying to sound calm and collected.

Loki raised his hands in the air to signify some sort of compliance. Tony's heart skipped a beat when he noticed they were crimson.

"Loki, turn around," he demanded, taking a small step back. His mind was racing, trying to figure out whose blood had been spilt on the god's fingers.

The black and green figure slowly turned on the spot, hands still raised above his head. He looked smaller than usual, as his head was bowed and his entire body somewhat sunken in. Tony was not fully prepared for what he was about to see.

Loki's eyes lacked their usual mischievous luster. A deep cut ran across the bridge of his nose. He was particularly pale this night, a feat that would have otherwise seemed impossible to achieve. His chin was painted red, and he was trembling. His lips had been sewn shut.

Tony felt a lump forming in his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Acting against his better judgment, he took a step closer.

"What happened?" he asked, clearing his throat. He took another step.

Loki's eyes were glued to the floor. He stood motionless, devoid of energy.

A few moments passed as Tony steadily inched nearer. He exercised extreme caution, hoping that he wasn't falling right into one of Loki's traps. To pull a stunt like this didn't seem to be above the God of Lies' standards. Timidly, he reached his hand forward, preparing to lift Loki's chin to get a better look in the light.

Loki's eyes finally moved from the floor, and he shot Tony a look that made him stop in his tracks. The emerald orbs seemed to say "_don't you fucking dare",_ and "_please help me,"_ all at once.

"Who did this to you?" he asked quietly.

Loki slowly lowered his arms. He reached his hand to the countertop behind him and traced the letters with his fingertips, leaving a trail of blood to convey his message.

_Thor_.

"I don't believe you," Tony replied, an unintentional snicker following.

Loki slowly clenched his hand, causing the shorter man to back away warily. His green eyes were shut tightly as he attempted to try and calm himself. Merely seconds later, he turned and slammed his fist against the stainless steel refrigerator, creating a rather giant dent.

"Fuck! Hold on a second! If I take those out, will you promise to stop destroying my shit?" Tony blurted, waving his arms to get the god's attention. He bit his tongue, realizing the panic in his own voice. He watched as Loki's shoulders rose and fell as he took in labored breaths, waiting for a response that would never come.

"I'll be gentle," he added, altering his voice into a milder tone. Loki nodded slowly. "Ok, then. Just… just wait here a second. I have wire cutters in the other room." Silence. He sighed to himself and made his way down the hall hurriedly.

Loki turned away from the refrigerator timidly. His eyes stung with fresh tears that he refused to shed. He avoided looking at his bloodied hands at all costs. Why did he come here?

"Ok, got 'em," Tony said, holding the tool in his hand. "Here, it will be easier if you lie down."

Loki took a step forward, hesitating for a moment before dropping to one knee. He inhaled deeply through his nose, preparing himself for the shame that was about to ensue. He clenched his jaw tightly as he laid down on his back and stared at the recessed lights in the ceiling.

"Just hold still. I'll be careful, I promise," Tony assured him, kneeling down. As he leaned forward to get a better look, he noticed the bruises on the god's jaw. They looked like perfect fingerprints. He swallowed the lump in his throat, not realizing he had been staring for a good deal of time. His eyes inched further up Loki's face and they locked eyes. "I'm going to start now," he whispered, and placed his hand against the pale cheek to steady him.

Acting on its own accord, Loki's hand shot up and held the man's hand flush against his face. The warmth felt comforting against his skin.

Tony began snipping the leather cords that bound Loki's lips together. The process was fairly swift and effortless, but he knew the pain had yet to begin. He bit his lip nervously as he gripped the end of one of the cords with his thumb and forefinger and began to pull it through the open wound.

Loki shut his eyes tightly and took a deep breath through his nose. He pain was sharp, overwhelming, and familiar.


	4. Brothers

"You must stop doing these things at once, brother." Thor's voice echoed against the barren stone walls.

"Very well, then."

"You are lying. Father is upset, and this will only cause harm to you if you continue to lie and scheme behind his back."

"What will he do to me, then? The _great_ and _powerful_ Odin? Will he cast me out once more? I will do as I please. I need not to listen to you, or him. His empty threats do not concern me."

"Failure to comply with our father's requests will not bode well for you."

The two stood in silence, eyes locked.

"I will not say it again, brother," Thor warned.

"I am not your brother," Loki spat, gripping his scepter tightly. He did not like the look in Thor's eye. He sneered at the larger god, readying his weapon. Though he was smaller in stature and strength, he made up for these shortcomings with his powerful magic and unrelenting stamina.

Without sparing a moment, Thor charged toward his target. He swung Mjolnir forcefully, and it was met with Loki's scepter. A surge of energy erupted between them, staggering them both. Using his weapon to steady himself, Loki leapt into the air and landed a kick to Thor's chest with both feet. The larger god stumbled backward but was otherwise unaffected.

"Loki, I have warned you!" Thor bellowed. His booming voice caused the trickster to grimace.

"I do not fear you, the god of brute strength and additional worthless qualities," Loki retorted, the corners of his lips contorting into an evil smirk.

The two rushed toward each other once more, adrenaline pumping through their veins. They fought relentlessly, frequently falling to the floor and returning to their feet. Thor's chest heaved as he drew in breath, trying to keep up with the smaller figure. Loki darted around him, relying on his quickness to win the battle. His stamina was unparalleled, but his physical strength was comparatively lacking. The few blows that Thor landed caused him great pain, and gradually debilitated his efforts.

Loki swung his weapon through the air, grazing Thor's cheek. The god scowled as the mark grew crimson, and he reached out his hand to grasp anything he could. Loki's heart sped up as he realized Thor was gripping the end of his cape.

Before he could act, he was pulled to the floor forcefully, hands pinned behind his back. He was barely able to replenish the breath that was forced from his lungs when he felt a crushing weight on his chest. It was Mjolnir. He struggled beneath its weight to no avail, trying desperately to keep the larger figure from overpowering him.

Thor released a contemplative sigh. He reached into a small pocket in the side of his boot to retrieve a particularly threatening looking needle and long leather rope. Loki, busy trying to free himself from such an embarrassing situation, nearly overlooked the items. A small beam of light that reflected off of the sharp metal caught his eye. The struggle immediately stopped.

"What is that?" Loki asked, furrowing his brow.

"Forgive me, brother."

Loki's eyes widened as Thor grabbed hold of his jaw, holding him still. He could not pry his gaze from the menacing object. He tried to jerk his head away from his captor, but his attempts proved futile.

"I submit!" Loki blurted, gaze still fixed on the glimmering needle. "Thor, do not do this!"

"I warned you, Loki," Thor replied. The task pained him.

"Please," Loki begged, voice shaking. Odin had threatened to sew his lips shut on multiple occasions if he continued his lies and mischief, but he never believed it to be true. "I know you do not want to do this, brother."

"So now I am your brother?" Thor scoffed. "Your words are true. I do not wish to carry out this task, but if it is not performed, you will never learn." At that, he pressed the pointed metal below Loki's bottom lip.

"Please!" Loki shrieked, feeling the bruises already forming along his jaw.

He felt a harsh pain overcome him. A metallic taste filled his mouth.


	5. Shame and Uncertainty

Loki's eyes shot open. His hands were now flat on the ground, and he could see that Tony was still huddled over his chest. Quiet whimpers sounded in his throat, and he realized he was crying. He dug the heels of his boots into the floor in an attempt to distract from the overwhelming sting.

"It's almost over," Tony murmured, trying his best to sound comforting as Loki took sharp, labored breaths through his nose. "Just one more," he added, biting his lip as he removed the final scrap of leather from the god's lips.

Loki's eyes fluttered shut and he opened his mouth slightly, taking in a deep breath.

"Thank you," he whispered, almost inaudibly.

"I'm going to get a towel. I'll be right back," Tony said, slowly getting to his feet. It was then that he noticed the thin layer of frost covering the ground in their immediate area. He carefully made his way out of the room and down the hall, rubbing his temples in disbelief.

He leaned over the bathroom sink and turned on the hot water. The steam filled his nostrils and he sighed. Such warmth felt nice after being perched atop the icy figure in his kitchen for so long. He grabbed a towel from the rack and placed it under the running water. He stared at his reflection and gave himself a reassuring nod as he prepared to return to the bloody mess.

"Here," said Tony as he rounded the corner. Loki was sitting now, his back against the damaged refrigerator. His knees were tucked into his chest and his hands cupped below his chin. Thick drops of crimson pooled in his palms and trickled down his bracers. The sheet of ice had dissipated.

Loki nodded and accepted the towel, quickly burying his face in it. The hot cloth was immediately comforting. It helped dull the pain and hide his shame as he discreetly wiped away his tears.

"The bathroom is just down the hall. You can use the shower if you'd like. It got kind of messy out here."

Loki looked up from behind the towel, still pressing it against his lips and jaw. There were dark circles around his bloodshot and glassy eyes. His skin was a sickly white-green hue. He nodded again and slowly stood.

"Follow me," Tony called as he made his way down the hall. The two entered a spacious bedroom. A comfortable looking bed sat in the center of the room, a large television hanging from the wall across it. It was modestly decorated, but very modern and expensive looking. "It's through here," he continued, leading Loki to the particularly extravagant bathroom. It boasted a giant bathtub and elegant granite features. The shower was encased in clear glass, with excessive looking chrome fixtures.

"I just got it remodeled. You'll love it," Tony said proudly. Loki appeared disinterested. "Right, then…" he continued, realizing he would not be receiving any admiration from the god. He opened the large glass door and turned a few handles, causing a gentle stream of water to flow from the large metal shower head. He turned on his heel and exited the room. "Oh, and leave the door open. I don't want any funny business."

Loki scoffed. He watched the man walk away and lie down on the bed, kicking off his shoes.

"Jarvis, it's gotta be, what, 3 o'clock in the morning? There must be something shitty for me to watch, don't you think?" The television clicked on. "I won't look, I promise," Tony called as he noticed Loki's gaze affixed on him. Loki's eyes narrowed. He shook his head to himself and tossed the ruined, lukewarm towel aside.

Tony sighed as he flipped through the seemingly endless channels, finding that it was all entirely trash. He listened closely to the sounds of heavy cloth and armor as they fell to the floor. He stole a glance toward the bathroom out of pure curiosity. He merely caught a glimpse of the god's blood stained hand as it closed the glass door. He tilted his head and leaned over the side of the bed slightly to get a better look.

He could make out the tall, porcelain figure through the blurred, steamy glass. The god stood, unmoving, as the hot water rushed over the back of his raven hair. Tony propped himself up on his elbow, wondering why he was so interested.

Loki closed his eyes and leaned his head back. The water rolled down his face, causing a gentle sting on his tender skin. The pain quickly faded, though, and he stood motionless beneath the gentle cascade. The billionaire was right. He did love it.

He tilted his head forward and watched the pink water spin down the drain. He hadn't realized his hair had caught so much blood. Finally, he shook the water from his face and began inspecting his hands. He scrubbed at the dried blood on his knuckles and the beds of his fingernails. After a long while, the water finally began to run clear. Loki rubbed his eyes and began to realize how exhausted he was. His powers were weakened.

Tony inconspicuously repositioned himself closer to the center of the bed. He half-watched some worthless drivel transpire on the screen in front of him, but kept his focus on the other room as the shower turned off. He quickly averted his gaze as Loki stepped out from the shower. He swallowed, discreetly trying to steal a peek.

Loki grabbed a black towel from the rack and wrapped it around his waist. The color matched his inky hair, and he turned toward the doorway. Tony's eyes quickly scanned the wet, muscular frame before returning to the glowing screen.

"I can see you, you know," Loki said, leaning in the doorway. Tony looked back at him, appearing uninterested. He noticed large, yellow-green bruises across the god's ribcage.

"Sorry?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I seem to recall you vowing not to gawk at me," Loki continued, tilting his head. His rapidly healing lips turned up in a smirk.

"I've seen better," Tony replied with a shrug. "Check that top drawer over there; I think I have some spare clothes."

"I respectfully decline that offer."

Tony raised a brow once more. "You can't wear my inferior, mortal clothing? You always have to prance around in that gaudy costume?" he jabbed. "Besides, it's looking a little haggard at the moment. No offense."

Loki turned his gaze to the pile of armor strewn across the bathroom. Large gashes tore through the heavy cape. Blood soaked into the shredded bits of leather and pooled in the dented metal. He pursed his lips in contemplation.

"Don't be a diva."

Loki rolled his eyes and reluctantly marched to the drawer. He pulled it open and retrieved a black t-shirt and black jeans.

"What a daring choice," Tony joked, getting an irritated glare in return. He brought his hands to his eyes dramatically to signify that he was not peeking as Loki quickly dressed himself. The god did not try to conceal his distaste for such pathetic garb.

"So," Tony started, fluffing the pillow behind him. "Are you going to tell me why you're here?"

The question caught Loki off guard. Amid the man's typical clowning, he somehow didn't expect it to come so soon. He opened his mouth, immediately closing it as he realized he had no words

"Of all the places you could have gone, you decided to materialize in the kitchen of an Avenger's home in the wee hours of the morning. Why?"

"I don't know," Loki muttered.

"I don't believe you." Tony crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I'm still not entirely convinced that you aren't up to something. It doesn't make any sense."

"I was a little… _rushed_, to say the least," Loki replied, heaving himself up to sit atop the dresser.

"Don't scratch that," Tony snapped.

"It's the first place I thought of," Loki continued, ignoring the petty concern. The two sat in silence for a few moments, eyes glued to the brilliant white carpet.

"So, what, are we buddies now?" Tony started, turning to face the god. He hung his legs over the edge of the bed. "You just show up here, expecting me to help you? You, the so-called "God of Mischief," who has on more than one occasion wrecked my home and destroyed my work… the same guy that's wreaked havoc on the people I'm supposed to help protect?"

"A bit odd, isn't it?" Loki replied, inspecting his nails. He appeared neutral.

"Why are you here? You showed up and, against my better judgment, I refrained from calling the team in. We could have wiped the floor with you, but instead I cleaned your pitiful ass up. You're welcome. Are you going back to your planet now?"

"I cannot go back," Loki muttered. "Why do you speak with such hostility?"

"Why do I feel like I'm being manipulated?"

"Everyone that speaks to me feels as though they are being manipulated," Loki spat, anger in his voice.

"Well, I wonder why that is."

Again, the room fell silent. The pair refused to meet each other's gaze.

"Why did he do it?" Tony asked, finally. Loki's eyelids fluttered shut and his lip twitched at the thought. "It did happen the way you say it did, right? That Thor just went ahead and sewed your mouth shut? It doesn't really seem like him, does it? Then again, I guess I don't really know the guy all that well. And it is kind of a pain in the ass to listen to you talk sometimes, I'll give him that… but how did he get the jump on you anyway? Did you forget how to use your special wizard powers?"

"Stop it," Loki whispered, hands clenched into fists.

"I'm sorry, was that too real for you?" Tony persisted, continuing to suppress that pesky better judgment in the back of his head. "Pepper tells me she likes to knit, I'm sure I can find a needle and some yarn lying around if you'd like me to—"

"Enough!" the god spat, teeth bared. He reopened one of the scabbed wounds, and a small crimson droplet trickled from the corner of his mouth. "Thor is a fool! He senselessly follows the orders of his equally irrational father to no end! He is a mindless brute, and yes, I was no match for that particular trait of his. He speaks as if he would do me no harm, as if the blood that flows through my veins is the same as his, though he knows that it is not. He has forever protected that notion, as ridiculous as it is, but its importance apparently has since gradually diminished. I may be recognized as the God of Lies and Mischief, but it is Thor that has proven deceitful. He feigns virtue and honor and uses his bestowed powers to torture those who pose a threat to his king, or even those who merely appear as such."

"So you threatened Odin?"

"It only appeared as such," Loki muttered quickly, cracking his knuckles. He carefully lifted his hand to his face and dabbed the corner of his lip with his ring finger. "You truly believe that the greatest sorcerer in Asgard could have been bested by a creature of sheer physical strength and little more? He has never done anything like this. I did not perceive him as a threat, and that was my downfall. I will admit I panicked. As soon as I was able to free myself, I made my way here. I am still unsure why, but I would say that the decision has proven sufficient thus far."

"You can't go back?"

"Technically speaking, yes I can. However, I am not in much of a hurry to return after this… incident. My reputation may say otherwise, but I assure you that I mean you no harm. You're a bright man. What could I possibly gain from this?"

"That's a very good question. Granted, the whole not trusting anybody thing has always worked out for me in the long run," Tony replied, returning to his original position in the middle of the bed. He re-fluffed his pillow. "So, is telling me all this your way of asking if you can stay here? Because I don't know how comfortable I am with a lethal psychopath bunking over."

"I never assumed you would let me stay. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you've already called up your ragtag team of misfits and they were waiting for me outside. Trusting no one is the only way to guarantee well-being. The last time I ignored that truth, I wound up here in a pool of my own blood."

"How embarrassing," Tony quipped. Judging by the god's facial twitch, he knew he'd struck another nerve. He cursed his inability to filter himself. "I don't understand; why didn't you just suck it up and stop trying to take over the world?" he continued, heart beating faster. He couldn't stop. "So you've got daddy issues. Thor brought you all the way back there with him and you couldn't just let it go?"

"You would not understand," Loki interrupted. He dropped down from atop the dresser and took a step closer, his tall build more apparent.

"I understand that you like to whine about insignificant—"

"My entire existence was a lie!" Loki shouted, silencing the man. "I grew up believing the ridiculous notion that someday I could be King of Asgard. That throne was never meant for me. I was not Odin's son. I was stolen as an infant from Jotunheim where I was hidden away, an embarrassment even to them. And how did I find out? It was an _accident_. I was never to see what I really am. I was only meant to live in the shadow of that hammer-wielding brute. I am merely a stolen relic."

Tony swallowed the lump in his throat as the fiery green eyes pierced his own. Loki's breathing was heavy and he furrowed his brow.

"You would not understand," Loki repeated. A single tear escaped from the corner of his eye, and he clenched his jaw in humiliation. "I panicked, and I ended up here. You are but a man without your suit of armor, and an outcast beyond that. Truthfully, I did not expect anyone to help me. I will be going now, Stark." He turned away with a sigh, taking long strides toward the door.

"Wait," Tony muttered, surprising even himself. "Look, I can't believe I'm saying this, but fuck it. You can stay here, just one night." Loki glanced over his shoulder in disbelief. "But it's only because I feel sorry for you," he added. "And if you try anything, Jarvis will have the Hulk on your ass in a second."


	6. Trust Me

Tony awoke abruptly to the sound of his alarm. He sat upright and rubbed his eyes before stretching his arms over his head. "Alright, Jarvis, I'm up!" he called, yawning. He was about to lie back down when he suddenly recalled the previous night.

"Jarvis, where is Loki?" he asked, hopping to his feet. He remembered an abundance of shitty television before dozing off.

"He is in your living room, staring out the window, sir."

Tony nodded to himself, pleased to not have been murdered in his sleep. He slipped on his shoes and combed his hair with his fingers before heading down the hallway.

"Morning, sunshine," Tony shouted, grabbing a mug from the cupboard. "Can I interest you in a cup of coffee?"

Loki stood motionless, staring out across the city. His arms were folded across his chest as he scanned the buildings, eyes squinting in the light. He appeared to be deep in thought.

"I'll take that as a '_yes, thank you for your generosity, Tony!_'"

The god chuckled. "I don't know what coffee is, Stark."

"It's the best shit ever invented, you'll love it," the man replied. Loki turned on the spot and rolled his eyes. Tony was surprised to find that the wounds were already barely visible, and Loki was back in his newly repaired gold and green garb, albeit dressed down a bit.

The two sat across from each other at the bar, coffee mugs in hand. Loki took a hesitant sip before deciding that the piping hot liquid was up to his standards. He enjoyed the sweetness and the way it warmed his body. His satisfaction must have been visually apparent as Tony provided a delighted "told you so."

"Did you sleep well? Sorry if I started snoring. Nothing puts me to sleep quite like the mind numbing ramblings of reality TV stars."

Loki nodded and took another sip of his coffee. He began to feel more awake. The man's enthusiasm for the otherwise lackluster beverage began to make more sense.

Tony watched as Loki swirled the liquid around in his cup and stared off into space. His eyes wandered over the god's features, and he wished he could read minds. The pale face was narrow and angular, as if it had been carved from white marble. The gash across the bridge of his nose was healing, as were the holes in his lips. His inky hair was slicked back, and it curled up at the ends. A few rogue tresses fell in front of his face, outlining his chiseled jaw. The sharp contrast made his skin look even more flawless.

His gaze fell lower toward the god's ivory neck, barely exposed beneath the high collar. His eyes narrowed as he admired the elegant armor and intricate bracers. They traced their way to the snowy fingers, knuckles still faintly stained red. His heart sped up slightly and he swallowed hard, discouraging himself from his sudden feelings of strange fascination. He looked back toward Loki's face and couldn't help but stare. The piercing emerald eyes had regained their former brightness, and it was apparent that he was deep in thought. His dark brows wrinkled slightly, and his lip twitched. Finally, he raised his mug and took another gulp.

"Thank you again," Loki muttered quietly. He cleared his throat and finished off his drink quickly, looking in every direction other than Tony's. "It looks lovely in here. I truly am sorry for having destroyed it once, but, if it's any consolation, it now looks better than ever," he added, a devilish grin developing on his face. Tony rolled his eyes.

"Sir?" Jarvis' voice filled the room, causing them to jump.

"What is it?" Tony replied, smashing his palm against his forehead.

"Agent Barton is en route, accompanied by Mr. Rogers and Agent Romanoff."

Tony looked up with a start. Loki's eyes widened. "You've told them of my whereabouts," he spat, springing from his seat. His heart beat rapidly in his chest as he stumbled backward. Why did he believe he could trust the man? How could he have been so foolish?

"I didn't call them, I swear, I—"

"Enough!" the god roared, eyes filled with rage. "I do not wish to hear your lies!"

Tony stood and retreated toward the corner as Loki's signature horns, scepter, and cape materialized. He didn't have enough time to get to a suit.

"Loki…" he started, holding his hands up in retreat. "Let's just calm down for a sec…"

The distant hum of a helicopter began to grow nearer.

"I will _not _be going back to Asgard!" the god screamed. His words were dripping with hatred, but a trace of panic sounded in his voice. His emerald eyes dug viciously into Tony's. He bared his teeth, looking both infuriated and afraid.

"Loki," Tony persisted, "Whatever you're about to do, don't do it… they don't know you're here..."

"Lies!" the god shouted, briefly directing his attention to the window. He raised his scepter and pointed it at the man's chest. He grimaced as their eyes locked.

"Get in the bedroom. I'll cover for you."

Loki opened his mouth in protest, gripping his weapon tightly. He still felt so weak. His mind raced, contemplating every means of escape. The great Tony Stark stood opposite him: a mere mortal without his suit. He had but enough energy left to kill the man, but he would not be able to fight the others. He took a deep breath as the helicopter sped into view. He nodded.


	7. Lefty

"Afternoon, Stark," Steve said with a grin. He held out his hand for a firm shake. Tony accepted, giving them each a warm nod.

"Hey guys," he said, forcing a smile. "What brings you to my lovely little home?"

"Sorry to just show up like this; we tried to give a slight heads up," Natasha answered. She smiled warmly, shading her eyes from the light. Her hair was a brilliant red, and her azure eyes glistened in the sun.

"Ah, yes of course, Jarvis told me you were coming about four seconds ago," Tony replied with a smirk.

"We just came to check in on something. Sorry if we interrupted some alone time with your right hand," Clint quipped. Steve and Natasha rolled their eyes and shared in a moment of mortified disgust.

"Nah, I jerk it lefty," Tony retorted with a wink.

"This is all very fun and all, but we came here on official business," Steve interrupted, face contorted in revulsion. "We've been notified that Loki is no longer in Asgard."

Tony raised a curious eyebrow.

"We were sent to make sure he wasn't here," Natasha added. "We know he's turned up at your place in the past. He's always had an interest in you."

"Doesn't everyone?" said Tony, receiving a scoff. "Well, I haven't seen the sneaky bastard lately, but you'll be the first to know if I do." He turned to look back at the door. "I don't mean to be a lousy host, but I'm actually a little busy at the moment."

"Is she hot?" Clint asked jabbing the man in the ribs.

"Absolutely," Tony replied with a grin. An image of the God of Mischief's slender body flashed in his mind for a moment. He awkwardly scratched the back of his head, blinking it away.

"Alright, well, good to hear that you're safe. Be sure to let us know if any power hungry psychopaths turn up. We'll even bring the big guy," Natasha said with a smile.

Tony nodded, returning the grin. He shook their hands and waved them off as they entered the helicopter. He stayed on the roof until they were out of sight.

"I'm going to feel so stupid if he kills me," he muttered to himself.


	8. How Embarrassing

Tony strolled quietly down the hall. He stopped in front of the bedroom and pressed his ear to the door, listening for any sounds of life. He carefully placed his hand on the knob and turned it slowly.

"Do you really think I'm hot?" Loki said, a playful grin on his face.

"Absolutely not," Tony replied with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Doesn't it seem a little dangerous to be eavesdropping on a team of armed and ready super soldiers?"

"Come now, Stark. I am a sneaky bastard aren't I?" Loki answered, lying back on his elbows. He was sitting at the end of the bed, his scepter and helmet resting next to him. "I could have killed you, you know," he added, narrowing his eyes.

"Yeah, probably not the wisest choice at the time."

"I still can," he continued, retrieving the helmet from its resting place. He used the end of his cape to polish it and smiled at his reflection.

"Again, probably not the best idea ever. I don't know if you stuck around long enough to hear, but next time, they're bringin' the big guy. I seem to remember that last time you had a run in with him, he destroyed my floor… with your face."

"Yes, I vaguely recall that," the god replied, wrinkling his nose in repugnance.

"But by all means, do whatever you want. It does seem a little weird that you would wait this long, though. One might even venture to think that you're starting to like me a little," he said, flashing his brilliant white, trademark smile. "Just remember that Jarvis can have them on their way in a matter of minutes. They could probably even get your beloved big bro here; it's happened before. I'm sure he'd be happy to whip you back into shape."

Loki took a deep breath through his nose and stood. He gently placed the golden helmet back on the bed and cracked his knuckles. He rolled his shoulders back and turned toward the man, irritation written all over his face.

"I would urge you to stop speaking," Loki threatened, though his voice remained calm and composed. He tilted his head to crack and loosen his neck, and leisurely combed his hair with his hand.

"Or what?" Tony inquired. He was never one to pass up an opportunity to possibly get himself killed.

Loki raised an eyebrow. There was a twinkle in his eye. He took menacing strides toward the man until he was backed up against a wall.

"Somehow, I think you may know the answer to that," Loki whispered. Their faces were mere inches away. The god's lip curled up in an evil smirk, sensing fear.

Tony swallowed the lump in his throat. He conjured the most indifferent expression he could muster as they stared each other down. The god's breath was cold on his skin, and the intensely emerald eyes seemed to penetrate his very soul. However, the feelings of anxiety gradually began to wash away as he studied the god's features once more. The porcelain skin was impossibly flawless. Suddenly, he felt a familiar tingling sensation throughout his body.

_It must be some kind of godly superpower._

He bit the inside of his cheek. It would make perfect sense for a god to have the ability to seduce anyone in their presence. The notion seemed familiar to him, which provided a glimmer of reassurance. He shook the idea quickly.

"Are you done?" Tony asked impatiently.

"Maybe," Loki whispered. There was a peculiar, knowing look in his eye. Tony suddenly wondered if the god could read minds.

"I'm going to go take a shower," Tony continued, sidestepping away. He hastily made his way toward the door and slipped inside the pristine bathroom, promptly shutting and locking the sturdy taupe door behind him. He exhaled deeply, somewhat relieved to be out of the god's presence. The lingering sensation persisted, however, leaving him flustered and discouraged.

There was a loud clanging sound of keys and scattered change as Tony stepped out of his jeans. His shirt quickly joined them on the cold floor and he hurriedly flung open the glass chamber. He twisted the chrome handle, and a cold rush of water was released from the extravagant shower head. He placed a timorous hand beneath it and shuddered. He did not have to look down to realize that his problem had grown far beyond simple reparation via icy shower. He stole a quick glance toward the door. How embarrassing.

He couldn't help himself. It had been so long. He shook his head in shame as he increased the water temperature to a soothing high. He racked his brain for a reason why the god was able to achieve such a rise out of him where others couldn't – at least lately. The question troubled him, but the urgent torrent of frustration outweighed his curiosity. He gingerly stepped inside and placed his hand against the wet tile. He pressed his forehead against it as well, allowing the warm cascade to run down his back. Slowly, carefully, he wrapped calloused fingertips around his throbbing member.


	9. The Black Widow

Loki grinned, perched atop the counter. He rested his boots in the pristine sink, and his eyes traced the man's blurred outline through the steamy glass enclosure. He leaned back against the damp wall and raised a hand to his mouth, biting at his knuckles. He knew Tony had appeared terribly aroused. How the man could have thought a flimsy locked door could keep him out was beyond him.

Tony shut his eyes tightly as he stroked himself, steadily thrusting his hips forward into his fist. He rubbed his thumb across the leaking head, spreading sticky precum over his most sensitive areas. He chewed the inside of his cheek as he continued the motion. An image of those radiant green eyes fixed upon his was etched into his mind.

Loki swallowed hard as he watched the man steadily rock his hips into his hand. He licked his lips hungrily and felt a dizzying sensation deep within himself. He wanted desperately to be the reason for Tony's hasty retreat to isolation. He craved the attention, wanting nothing more than the man to kneel before him, overcome with lust and intense passion. However, he felt as though a recent encounter with a certain curvy redheaded agent was more likely to cause such urgency. That harsh reality somewhat cheapened his experience, but he was entertained nonetheless.

Tony began to pump harder, the throbbing flesh hot against his palm. The hot water rolled down the back of his neck, and he wished it was Loki's nimble fingertips. He strengthened his grip once again, picturing that silver tongue ravaging his member.

He gasped, and his hips buck forward. It did not take long. His chest heaved as he came into his hand. He smiled sleepily to himself, pleased to finally have had some release. His eyes fluttered open and he rinsed himself off, splashing water against the tile to dispose of the evidence.


	10. Tentative

"Oh, you smell lovely," Loki crooned as Tony stepped out of the bathroom, sporting the same clothes. His hair was wet and disheveled, an expression of pure tranquility on his face. The god licked his lips subconsciously. Tony rolled his eyes and threw himself onto the bed.

"Did you get into any trouble while I was gone?" Tony asked, shaking the water from his hair.

"Only a little," Loki teased, inconspicuously making his way to the bed. He sat down tentatively. Facing no resistance, he promptly propped his boots up.

"So, I'm wondering why you haven't killed me yet," Tony started, placing his arms behind his head.

"I have my reasons," Loki replied, lips curving into a familiar devilish smirk. The scars had almost faded into his ivory skin. The man nodded, unconvinced.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

Loki shrugged, though he suddenly realized how famished he was. The coffee was making his stomach ache, and he badly needed relief from the crushing weakness he felt.

"I'll call somewhere for delivery. I don't think I'm quite ready to actually leave you here alone, and I'm certainly not taking your ass out on the town with me," Tony decided, rolling out of bed.


	11. Impractical Sustenance

"I think I am beginning to understand why you Midgardians are so… _round."_

Tony couldn't help but laugh at the comment, realizing the virtual oil slick plated on the coffee table in front of them. He reached toward the center of the gooey mess and retrieved what he believed to be a flawless morsel: a perfectly triangular yellow corn tortilla chip, covered in pinto beans, adhered to its surface by a layer of glistening, unnaturally orange, cheese. He dipped one corner in thick sour cream, the other into a perfectly round pile of chunky guacamole.

"Don't knock it 'till you try it," Tony advised, holding it up like a trophy. "Finishing touch," he added, pouring salsa on top. "Eat it."

Loki eyed the mess of color in the man's hand. It appeared unappetizing, dripping with condiments that looked practically inedible. He wrinkled his forehead in uncertainty.

"Is it supposed to be that color?" the god asked, apprehensively extending and retracting his arm.

"Will you knock it off?" the man sighed, cupping a hand underneath. The dripping mess threatened to fall. "Open up, this is getting dangerous." Quickly, impatiently, he shoved it into Loki's ungrateful mouth, causing a mess.

Tony erupted into a robust fit of laughter at the sight of Loki, appearing thoroughly agitated and covered in sour cream. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye as he tried to calm himself, not wanting to get his head blown off for insulting an Asgardian.

"Alright," Loki mumbled in affirmation, mouth still full. "Palatable, though I feel as though it is probably quite lacking in viable sustenance."

"Oh shut up, you know it's delicious. That's how we like it here - lots of flavor, little substance."

Tony smiled warmly, somehow (dare he venture to think it?) _enjoying _himself. If he took a moment to step back and assess the current situation, it's likely that he would not have even believed it himself. There he sat, in his own living room, enjoying a pile of cheap nachos with Loki, The God of Mischief himself. Not only that, but he just _fed_ the infamous villain of Earth his own meticulously constructed flavor explosion with his own two hands. His calculative mind began to race on its own accord, and the man busied himself by taking a loud slurp of Coke. He began to ponder the god's motives. He simply had to be up to something.

Loki sighed, giving in to his overwhelming hunger. He picked at the nachos, concealing his honest satisfaction in a dispassionate façade. It was lowly mortal food, after all.

Tony eyed the god as he daintily selected his food. _Daintily? _He clenched his jaw and took another drink of soda. This was the longest encounter they'd ever shared. Why was he acting so… _normal? _He couldn't just forget about the time he was thrown out of the very window behind them. Why the hell was he being so accommodating toward the world's number one enemy? He was certain he was under some sort of spell… did he always make such poor decisions?

Tony was silent. It made Loki feel uneasy, as it was usually a great chore to try and force him to shut his mouth. He stole a glance toward the man, who appeared to be immersed in contemplation.

"You can't get out of here, can you?" Tony asked, staring across the room. Loki swallowed the bit of food in his mouth and sat back in the couch awkwardly.

"Of course I can," Loki lied. Somehow he knew that the man would see through his ruse. He was barely able to amass enough energy to reach Midgard in the first place; he certainly lacked the strength to get out. He cleared his throat and took a timid sip of his drink. Tony glanced at him, irritated that he looked so alluring simply drinking soda from a straw. It was going to be a long and confusing day.


	12. Fancy a Drink?

"Let's say I actually believed you when you said you could leave," Tony started, glancing at the clock. It was nearly two in the morning. "Now are you hinting that you want to bunk over because I'm fun and awesome?"

Loki scoffed. He was perched atop the workbench, keeping himself busy while Tony pored over more calculations for his suit.

"Perhaps I'll leave when you go to bed, assuming that you ever do that anymore."

Tony nodded, realizing that sleep was a rare occasion for him.

"Fancy a drink?" Loki asked, beaming from ear to ear.

"Yeah, so you can drug me again? Not cool, dude."

Loki frowned, and a dramatic sigh escaped his lips. He tapped his fingers on the worktop, his heavy boots dangling over the edge. Tony stole a subtle glimpse toward the figure and bit back a smile.

"Alright, you've convinced me. But I'll be pouring," Tony agreed. He stood with purpose and exited the room, eager to take a break from his frustrations. Though he could hear nothing, he knew Loki was close behind.

"One for me, and one for you… you'll love it," the man declared, wearing a proud smile. He poured out two glasses of fine scotch and swirled it around, placing one in front of his guest.

"If you're trying to get me drunk, you'll be at it for days. Just a warning," Loki said with a grin. His eyes fluttered shut as he let the scent fill his nostrils. He had never tasted Midgardian drinks, though he knew them to be significantly less potent than the standard Asgardian brew. Still, it smelled comparable. They raised their glasses, locked eyes, and drank deeply. The liquid burned Loki's throat and warmed him to the core. As much as he hated to admit it, the man was usually correct in his assertions about him loving things. He tilted the glass and admired the amber liquid as the light glistened on its surface. He glanced over to find that its twin was already empty.

Tony shrugged, realizing the god's smirk. He promptly poured himself another.


	13. Confidential

Loki stood alone atop Stark Tower, a bottle of expensive looking scotch in his hand. Tony had retreated to his bedroom and fallen asleep after the fiery liquid began to take effect, so he tried to busy himself.

The cool summer breeze whipped through his hair gently, and he breathed deeply through his nose. His eyes wandered over the city lights, following cars in the distance. He took in the view as he brought the bottle to his mouth and drank deeply. He scowled at the robustly alcoholic taste, but appreciated the warmth it gave him. He could sense that his cheeks were slightly flushed, and finally felt a mildly relieving buzz. He raised the bottle in the air, toasting the sky.

"Jarvis?" Loki muttered as he returned to the living room. He scanned the ceiling in uncertainty.

"Yes, sir?"

The god smiled, surprised to receive a reply.

"How many women has our dear Tony Stark courted here?" he asked, dropping onto the couch.

"Unfortunately, I do not have that information on hand."

"Is that so?" Loki continued, raising a suspicious eyebrow. "Do you truly lack those records, or are they simply… _confidential_?"

"They are confidential, sir."

"Ah yes, of course they are," the god snickered. "And I assume that the number of men Stark has courted is also a confidential piece of information?"

"That would be zero, sir."

Loki swirled the sweltering amber in his hands. It was quite obvious that the billionaire wooed an unimaginable amount of women in his quarters on a very regular basis. The fact that he had not courted a single man, however, left him rather astonished.

"Thank you, Jarvis," he replied, finally. He carefully placed the half-empty bottle atop the coffee table and stood, rubbing his eyes. He took a deep breath and started down the hall.


	14. Magnificent Purpose

Loki admired the soft blue glow emitted by the Arc Reactor. He was always curious about how it worked.

The man was still fully clothed in his t-shirt and jeans, and wore a very content expression on his face. The corners of Loki's lips curled upward in satisfaction. He appreciated Tony's rugged features and precisely trimmed goatee. He watched silently as the man's chest rose and fell, and listened to the steady flow of air as it rushed into his lungs. The sound was rather soothing.

Slowly, steadily, he reached his hand forward, resting a finger on the energy source. It felt warm beneath his touch, and he licked his lips.

Suddenly, he was overcome with the irresistible urge to do something stupid. He should never have asked about the man's sex life. It felt oddly like a challenge.

He soundlessly removed most of his attire and invited himself into the bed. His heart pounded in his chest as he reached the point of no return. He placed a cold hand against the man's cheek.

Tony turned sleepily in the direction of the touch, eyes still closed tightly. Instinctively, the man felt around for a waist to grab hold of. Finding it, he gently squeezed the cool skin in his hand before placing his palm against the small of Loki's back, pulling them closer.

Loki's jaw dropped slightly, and he bit his tongue. The warm flesh against his own felt so incredible; it was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. He suddenly recognized the bitter fact that he'd never truly been held. The god remained silent until he was convinced that the man had returned to his slumber, certain that all of Midgard could hear his heart beating. His mind raced at exorbitant speeds as he contemplated his next move.

He was Loki, God of Mischief. If the mortal was to deny him, he would never quite recover.

He dragged a finger across the man's neck. Tony shivered, pulling the slender body nearer still. Loki could no longer contain himself.

The god ran icy fingers through the man's hair and held his breath.

Tony's eyes fluttered open. He blinked, and two bright emerald eyes finally came into view, illuminated by the soft blue glow.

"What are you doing?" the man asked groggily. His speech was gruff and shockingly indifferent.

Loki did not speak. His eyes narrowed slightly as he tried to predict what Tony was thinking. He searched the dark eyes for some sort of clue.

Slowly, Tony began to acknowledge the location of his hands. He swallowed the lump in his throat, embarrassed. How drunk had he gotten?

"I'm sorry… I didn't mean to…" he started, beginning to release the god from his grasp.

Loki instead pulled the man closer. The intimacy both terrified and excited him, and he could not let the sensation pass so swiftly.

Tony obliged, thoroughly confused. He wondered if he could be dreaming. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He was drawn to the god's radiant gaze and, instinctually, ran a heavy hand across Loki's porcelain skin. It felt like cold silk against the palm of his hand, and only drew him closer.

"You wanted this," Loki whispered, his sultry voice dripping with pure, unbridled seduction. It was not a question, but a statement, and it was spoken with the confidence of a god.

Tony nodded slowly, timidly.

Loki clenched his jaw tightly. The man's confirmed desire was the ultimate foreplay, and he was abruptly overcome with a sense of magnificent purpose.


	15. Fire and Frost

Tony gasped as their lips crashed together forcefully. Loki growled as he seized the man's brunette tresses in his hands and tugged at them playfully. His silver tongue parted through silky lips effortlessly, and he explored the inviting cavern. Gasping for air, they battled for dominance over the kiss, biting and sucking at each other's rosy flesh.

Loki wrapped his leg around the man, and in one fluid motion began straddling him. His dexterous fingertips inched across the side of Tony's face, tracing his jawline. They made their way down the man's neck until they drifted over the Arc Reactor, absorbing the electric warmth it emanated. He bit his lip and grinned as they were enveloped in darkness.

"You do not need this," Loki whispered as he ripped the man's shirt open, straight down the center. The room was suddenly aglow.

Tony hissed as icy hands caressed his torso, and he shivered at the touch. He promptly gripped both sides of Loki's waist in his palms and squeezed hungrily.

Mere milliseconds later, Loki seized the man's wrists and pinned them to the bed. He licked his lips as he leaned forward seductively. Tony's jaw hung open in delighted astonishment, his manhood uncomfortably pressing against his jeans. He struggled against the touch, realizing the god's remarkable strength. Those brilliant eyes were exaggerated by the radiant glow, and he exhaled sharply.

Loki strengthened his grip, relishing in his dominance. He chewed his lip while he eyed his prey, subconsciously grinding their hips together. He slowly leaned forward and nibbled at the man's neck. Receiving an approving moan, he ran a velvety tongue across the flushed skin. Tony trembled as cold breath washed over him. The sensation was delightfully energizing.

Loki lowered his body so it was flat against Tony's skin. The god's lips worked their way toward the man's chest, nipping lightly as they moved. He smiled as the man twisted beneath him.

"Would you like me to continue?" Loki asked as he reached the top of Tony's jeans. The man nodded instantly, eyelids heavy with need. The god smirked as he slipped a finger inside and tugged teasingly. "Sorry, what was that?" he whispered, nuzzling the man's crotch with his cheek.

"Yes," Tony muttered impatiently, licking his lips. Without sparing a moment, the rest of his clothes were ripped from his body, and his throbbing member was enveloped in the most satisfying warmth. His head fell against the pillow and he arched his back, gripping the sheets tightly in his hands. He could barely comprehend what was happening. Never in his life had he truly considered courting another man, but he suddenly wanted it – he required it so urgently.

Loki caressed the man's thigh in one hand, the other gently gripping his needy shaft. He ran his tongue across the silken skin, flicking it lightly against the sensitive underside before swirling around to the tip. The thrusts of his warming hand moved in unison with his ravenous lips as he worked it deeper into his mouth. He furrowed his brow as the hot member pressed into the back of his throat, determined to provide the categorical best experience the man had ever, or would ever, have.

Tony muttered various irrepressible obscenities as the god ravaged him. He shuddered uncontrollably at the dizzying combination of icy fingertips and fiery tongue, certain he couldn't last much longer. Suddenly, excruciatingly, Loki pulled away, leaving the man panting in frustration and desire, yearning for more. He got to his knees and lingered over the man's bare, masculine physique, observing him with satisfaction. A frustrated whimper escaped Tony's lips, causing a wicked smirk to develop upon the god's face.

"I will have you begging before I am through with you," Loki whispered softly. The words sent shivers down Tony's spine.

At that, the man reached forward and placed a firm hand against the god's crotch. He palmed the aching member through the leather pants, and Loki's legs nearly gave out. Tony bit his lip and smiled slightly, deciding that the ball was back in his court.


	16. Beg

Loki's eyes fluttered shut and he hissed quietly, feeling hasty fingers as they tugged at his clothing and gently tended to his aching hard-on. He had not anticipated the inexperienced man to be so advancing. He felt a strong desire to seize back the reigns, but it felt so good to be touched after so long.

Tony swallowed hard, trying to suppress his insecurity. He gripped the god's generously built member and stroked it lightly with his thumb and forefinger. How difficult could it be? He chewed his lip, mimicking the motions of what he would want done to himself.

Loki's hips rocked into the touch as he placed graceful hands against the man's shoulders. He took shallow breaths as Tony's grip strengthened around his growing length, and he began to tangle his fingers through the man's messy russet locks.

Tony eyed the god lustily and wrapped a hand around the small of his back. Loki's eyes were still shut tightly, and he could see the muscles in his perfectly chiseled jaw contracting in pleasure, flatteringly lit by the Arc Reactor. He invited the slender body closer and propped himself up. He took a silent, deep breath, before timidly taking the god into his mouth.

Loki gasped at the sensation and promptly clung to the headboard to steady himself. He didn't mind that the man was clumsy; each tender stroke sent shivers down his spine. His free hand tugged at the man's hair and his jaw fell open, each flick of the tongue provoking a twitch in his wrist. He could feel Tony's hands gripping his ass firmly as he licked the sensitive head. Loki released an unintentional whimper, and Tony responded with a vibrating groan that left the god quivering once more.

It was nearly too much for the trickster. He forced his eyes open to appreciate the great and powerful Tony Stark, eagerly tending to his own throbbing manhood. Again, an involuntary moan escaped his lips, encouraging the man to dig his nails into his ivory skin. He whined at the subtle sting and threw his head back, biting his lip in pleasure. It was time.

Loki pulled away slowly and leaned forward to kiss the man between heavy breaths. He staggered backward on weakened legs and stood beside the bed, a predatory look in his eye. He placed firm hands on Tony's waist and pulled him to the center of the bed, dropping his hips over the edge.

Tony became increasingly nervous, not entirely anticipating this portion of their night. He'd somehow known, however, that he would not be the one mounting a god. It seemed that Loki took notice to his apprehension, as his touch became gradually more tender and accommodating.

"I'll be gentle," Loki whispered. A smirk was barely visible in the soft glow.

Tony laid flat against the bed and let his head fall back, deciding to relax as best he could. He felt Loki's soft hands as they worked their way up his thighs. They were warmer than usual. They snaked across his legs and to the backs of his knees, which were suddenly propped against the god's strong shoulders. His erection was enveloped in slippery heat once more and he licked his lips. He felt a slick and gentle finger probe him, and he arched his back. He chewed the inside of his cheek, finding that the dueling sensations were oddly satisfying.

Loki slowly removed his fingers and stood, hands placed firmly against the back of Tony's legs. He positioned himself steadily and pressed forward, lip twitching as he felt the muscles contract around him.

Tony bit his lip and squeezed the sheets in his fist. He let out a sharp hiss from the initial discomfort, but found that it was only dissipating. Loki grinned as he watched the man, eyes shut tightly and breathing heavily. It excited him to no end.

Gradually, Tony began to rock his hips against the god's thrusts, and he felt an electrifying sensation. He trembled, and Loki responded accordingly.

"_Fuck_," Tony muttered as the god pressed into him harder, faster. Loki clenched his jaw tightly as he placed a steady hand against the man's chest, outlining the Arc Reactor. Tony pushed back against him, panting, yearning for more. The feeling was intense and new, and the ravenous emerald eyes purely turned him on more.

Tony never quite understood why Loki enthralled him so, but he no longer cared. All that mattered were the strong arms holding him down. All that mattered were the unreasonably erotic sounds that escaped the god's lips and the unbelievably sexy expression on his ivory face. All that mattered was that he was being properly fucked by the God of Mischief, and he was enjoying the hell out of it.

The man inhaled sharply as Loki seized his neglected member. Tony wrapped his legs around the god's waist and arched his back. The mixture of sensations was overwhelming. Loki's icy hand pressed against his chest while slippery heat penetrated him. The trickster stroked him slowly, giving him the most glorious hard-on he'd ever experienced.

Tony reached forward and held the god's face in his hands. It was utterly flawless. The fiery hatred and corruption was absent from those eyes, and only uninhibited lust remained. The man shut his eyes tightly and chewed his lip as he drifted dangerously close to orgasm.

"Do you want it?" Loki whispered. Tony's eyes shot open to see flecks of vivid green between inky tresses that fell like curtains in front of the god's face.

"Yes," Tony growled, tangling his fingers through the jet-black mane.

"How badly do you want it?" Loki continued, lips curling into a smile.

"So badly," the man replied hurriedly. The god's palm suddenly felt like frost on his chest, and he released a small yelp.

"I am unconvinced," the trickster murmured, kneading the rosy flesh in his hand.

"Please, Loki…" Tony moaned as he traced the god's lips with his thumb.

"Sorry?" Loki asked, silver tongue darting out to graze the man's skin. His smile grew as Tony's eyes rolled back, and he took the man's thumb in his mouth. He sucked and nipped at it hungrily.

"Fuck, Loki… _please!_" Tony screamed, thoroughly overcome. The god pressed into him harder, rocking his hips in unison with strokes to the aching member. Loki suppressed a whimper as he strained to hold back his orgasm. Suddenly, each meticulous gesture came together to produce the most exhausting climax that Tony had ever experienced.

The sounds of pleading left the god trembling, and as he felt each muscle in the man's body contract, he came with a passionate moan.

Tony shut his eyes tightly and felt Loki's body fall limp beside him, thoroughly exhausted. Without hesitation, he turned on his side and pulled the god close to his chest.

Loki gasped at the unexpected motion. The embrace felt incredible, and he suddenly didn't mind that he'd lost his dominating position. The man's strong arms enveloped him and he sighed, nestling his face against the warm skin.


	17. Perpetual Rejection

Tony awoke to the sound of his phone ringing. He rubbed his eyes sleepily and stretched out his arms, reaching for the god's slender body. His hand met the pillow next to him and he sat upright, realizing he was alone.

"Jarvis, where's Loki?" he asked, ignoring the call.

"He left, sir."

He left? How could that be? He hung his legs over the edge of the bed and furrowed his brow.

"Did he say if he was coming back?" Tony asked, a bit too desperately.

"He did not specify."

"Okay. Thanks, Jarvis," the man replied, scratching the back of his head. There was a mild pounding behind his eyes, and his body felt sore. Again the phone rang. He glanced at it, uninterested. It was Pepper. He would call her back.

He threw on a pair of sweatpants and walked into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee. He scanned the room hoping to discover the sneaky figure lurking about, but found nothing.

Is this what it felt like? Maybe it was karma for leaving so many women alone in his bed, only to have Pepper toss them out in the morning. He felt used and oddly alone. Perhaps he'd been a fool all along.

Loki conquered him. He'd fallen into the mischievous little bastard's trap.

"Do you know which way he went?" Tony asked, falling into a barstool. He pursed his lips as he swirled his cup in his hand. Why did he care so much?

"He was sitting out on the helipad when the sun came up. He disappeared."

Tony nodded. Either Loki's strength had returned, or he was never quite so helpless in the first place. The more he contemplated, the more he believed the latter. He suddenly felt angry and embarrassed. The god had come down from Asgard and feigned injury for pity. He'd been fucked proper, and probably robbed of some new designs. It was the only thing that made sense. The more he thought about it, the fewer indications of Loki's desires he could recall. Had he made it all up? Had the god ever truly suggested any genuine interest in him? Shit. He felt sick to his stomach.

"I believe you have company," Jarvis said suddenly. Tony raised a brow and glanced out the window. He could hear the faint sound of a helicopter whirring in the distance.

"Ugh, what do they want now?" the man groaned. He quickly pulled on a t-shirt before making his way to the helipad, shielding his eyes from the sun.

"Mr. Stark," came a familiar voice. "I have a few questions for you."

Tony squinted in the light and let out an annoyed grumble. Nick Fury strode past, inviting himself in. Steve, Natasha, and Clint followed suit.

"Now's not a good time," he said, rubbing his temples.

"Yeah, well, it seems like it never is," Fury called over his shoulder, shooting him a stern look.

"Are you okay?" Natasha asked as they gathered in the living room.

"I'm fine. Why?" Tony replied curiously.

"Loki was on your roof this morning," Clint answered, apparently surprised at the man's supposed ignorance. Tony feigned disbelief, though he was interested as to how they found out.

"Since we were informed of Loki's disappearance from Asgard, we decided to monitor the building," said Fury, anticipating the question. "I didn't tell you because I knew you wouldn't like it."

Tony rolled his eyes. He got that right.

"Some agents arrived late in the night to begin surveillance. They said it appeared as though he came from inside before they lost him. Did he come in contact with you?" the director continued.

"We asked Pepper to call so it would seem less suspicious. When you didn't answer, we got worried," Steve added.

Tony opened his mouth to speak, but his mind went racing. Would Loki come back? Or was it all a ruse? He hated unexpected guests with unexpected questions. Should he turn the trickster in? It could be his last chance. For all he knew, the god was planning on killing him if he ever did return. Perhaps the sting of rejection was clouding his judgment. Why did that bastard have to leave him alone?

"No," he responded, finally. He stared blankly at the floor. Why did he continue to protect the enemy? His heart pounded in his chest, hoping he hadn't made a horrible mistake. He glanced up quickly, briefly catching an unconvinced expression on Natasha's face.

Fury nodded, disappointed to have found no lead on the villain's whereabouts. He stood slowly and walked away without a sound. He obviously did not want to sit and chit-chat.

They quickly said their goodbyes and Tony sat awkwardly, glued to the couch. He mindlessly tapped at the metal in his chest and propped his feet on the coffee table, the helicopter's roar trailing off in the distance. He rubbed his eyes roughly and shook his head.

"Good morning."

Tony raised his head and stared in the direction of the silky voice. Loki stood against the wall, arms crossed in front of him. He seemed nervous.

"What are you planning?" the man asked, forehead wrinkling in puzzled distaste. Loki cocked his head to the side, expression static.

"Don't play stupid with me. I know you're up to something," Tony continued, bitterness becoming more apparent in his voice. He had a headache.

"You are upset with me," Loki muttered. The man scoffed. "I stepped out to watch your sun rise. I sensed that someone was watching… I had to leave."

"Yeah, how the hell did you do that, by the way? I thought your powers were shit?"

Loki's eyes narrowed as he brushed off the insulting comment. "I'm feeling much better now, thank you," he replied hotly.

"Glad to hear it, princess."

Loki could not bite back a sneer. "Why do you speak with such resentment? Have I insulted you?"

Tony's heart raced. Seething rage burned him to the core and his mind was filled with doubt, certain he was being manipulated. The Avengers were present mere moments ago, yet there the god stood, unscathed. Why did he protect the trickster so stupidly? He couldn't even blame the booze.

"Is it regret?" the god asked. Tony released an audible sigh. "Perhaps you were more intoxicated than you let on."

"You just don't know when to shut your fucking mouth, do you?" Tony snarled. He could no longer contain the frustration inside himself.

"I could ask the same of you," the god retorted, a devilish grin creeping onto his face.

"Yeah, I regret it. Now get the fuck out of here. Go back to your stupid planet where Thor can stitch you back up."

The smile quickly faded from Loki's face. His mouth fell open as if to respond with an insulting quip, but nothing came. Tony glared at him, determined to stand his ground. He swallowed the lump in his throat, deciding that he greater resembled a hurt puppy than a god. It did not matter. He was livid.

"I am sorry," Loki whispered. Tony turned away, ignoring the statement. "I returned, did I not?" He took silent steps toward the man and lowered his arms to his sides.

"Look, I don't know what the hell happened last night, but it doesn't change anything. You're still a liar and a murderer, and I'm not just going to forget about that."

Loki lowered his head in defeat. Dark locks fell in front of his eyes as he stared at the floor. He'd ruined it. Somehow he always expected it to end in such a manner. He only yearned for the man's touch, receiving but a taste of it during the night. The warm embrace… it was practically better than the sex. It made him feel wanted.

"Very well then, Stark," he said coldly. "Thank you for your assistance."

"Yeah," Tony breathed, almost inaudibly.

"I do, however, have one small favor to ask of you. I promise that after this, I will be on my way."

"You want another favor? Nursing your sorry ass back to health wasn't enough?" Tony asked, annoyed.

Loki ignored the comment and apprehensively stepped closer. He carefully lowered himself to the couch and sat, biting his lip. He shyly turned to face the irate figure slumped next to him. "Please?" he whispered. Barely catching a glimpse of the man's confused expression, he leaned forward and drew him into a secure embrace. He shut his eyes tightly as they sat silently, cheek to cheek.

Tony was reluctant at first, but eventually obliged. The god's body felt freezing against his own, causing him to subconsciously pull it nearer.

"I should not have left you. Please, do not turn me away just yet." The words sounded desperate and sincere. Tony's eyes fluttered shut and he suppressed the urge to cry out in agreement. It was not desperation or sincerity. It was all lies. It had to be.

"Loki…" the man started, voice breathy and strained. He tried to fight out a simple refusal.

The god pressed delicate fingers through the man's hair and nuzzled his face into the warm neck. He breathed in the rugged and masculine scent. It made him feel safe. "_Please_," he murmured.

Tony inhaled deeply, contemplating. He had been so confident, so convinced of the god's treachery. He was not so certain anymore. He grinded his teeth while the voices in his head screamed for him to stop believing in such ludicrous fabrications.

Loki was anxious. Tony did not trust him. Fresh tears pooled in his eyes and he furrowed his brow, desperately clinging to his pride. The man made him so weak.

"No," Tony replied, finally.

Loki's heart dropped, and he was suddenly awash with emotion. He panicked at the thought of returning to Asgard, but above all else, he felt an agonizing misery knowing that he would never be held again. An uncontrollable sob escaped his throat, and his body tensed in humiliation. He would never be able to escape from the perpetual rejection in his life. He knew this would happen.

Tony bared his teeth as he tried to stand his ground. He held the trembling body close, each quiet whimper ripping away at his heart.

"God fucking dammit," Tony muttered, exasperated. He pried the slender body off of himself and stared into the glistening emerald orbs, hands firmly gripping the rigid shoulders as they quaked. Loki appeared disheveled and defeated, eyes glassy with unwanted tears, lip quivering on its own accord. The god seemed to see right through him, straight into his core, begging for reassurance. What a complicated mess this had become.

Tony reluctantly sprawled out, resting his head against the cushioned armrest. He gave a simple nod and Loki followed suit. The god rested his cheek against the man's chest as they laid together. The droning hum of the Arc Reactor was calming as he tried to control himself. He felt so pathetic. What happened to the all-powerful, all-dominating god? What happened to ruling over the wretched mortals of Midgard? What the fuck happened to _him_? He was a failure, even on earth. The Jotuns left him to die, the Asgardians made an example of him, and now he crumbled into the arms of the famed Tony Stark, a man he only dreamt would someday kneel before him in subjugation. The notion only caused him to weep further.

"It's okay, Loki," Tony murmured, gently stroking the onyx hair. He tried his best to sound comforting, despite his recent attempts to strip the god of his dignity and send him back to hell. He was terrible at it.

"You needn't fear me," Loki replied quietly. "After what you've witnessed, I feel as though you couldn't if you tried," he added shamefully. Tony softly rubbed a warm hand across the god's icy cheek. The tears felt like frost against his fingers.

"I believe you," said Tony as he wrapped his arms firmly around the god's upper body. "Everything's going to be okay. We'll just lay low for a while."

Loki slowly raised head and gazed into the man's deep brown eyes. Tony looked back at him with the best encouraging grin he could muster. The gesture was met with what appeared to be the most genuine smile to have ever graced the god's ivory face.

They embraced quietly for a few moments, and Tony became lost in Loki's radiant eyes. He could sense a great deal of pain hidden deep within them. He wanted desperately to believe the words that were spoken to him, but he was still not entirely convinced that he was not under the influence of some sort of Asgardian magic. Their encounters had been limited after all, typically monthly to bi-weekly shit storms of mischief-making at his expense. He was never able to deny his curiosity, however, in Loki Laufeyson, the fallen prince. Beneath his threatening garb, his maniac laughter, and his coldly calculative insults, he was but a tortured soul. Were they really so different after all? Sure, the trickster was a sorcerer and a murderer, but even Tony's hands were not entirely clean of the blood of the innocent.

He hadn't realized how long he'd been staring until Loki broke their gaze. He blinked a few times. It was like being ripped from a trance. The god's sudden anxious expression made him nervous.

"We are not alone," Loki whispered, furrowing his brow.


	18. Vodka

"What the fuck is going on here?" Natasha asked from across the room. There was an eerie lack of emotion in her voice.

"I should have known it was you," Loki replied, wiping his eyes hurriedly. He slithered away from the body below him and stood gracefully, arms raised in mock surrender. She rounded the corner and aimed a pistol at his chest, but they both knew the precaution was futile. He smiled. "Your systems seem to have compromised a few of my senses, Mr. Stark. With your entire building recording my every action, it's difficult to decipher just who is listening." He pursed his lips, seemingly indifferent, and lowered his arms. He stole a glance at the man on the couch and rolled his eyes at Tony's neglect to acknowledge the situation. The man simply pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes tightly. "Don't you think it unwise to make your presence known in the company of a god, especially with such hostility?"

"Keep talking, tough guy. Like I didn't just hear you sniffling like a baby," the agent retorted, cocking her head. She lifted a brow in satisfaction as Loki's eye twitched. She'd struck a nerve. "You don't really believe this scumbag, do you?" she asked, directing her attention toward the man who wished he was invisible.

"Is the team coming in?" Tony asked casually.

Natasha studied the god's body language. Another facial tick implied his distaste, and he swayed slightly, shifting his weight to one leg. She watched him observe the man below him, a faint suggestion of worry in his eye. There was something else within him that she could not quite pinpoint.

"I haven't called them yet," she replied, eyes narrowing as she tried to read the rigid figure before her.

"But Fury's got a bug on you, right?" the man continued, clumsily working his way into a sitting position. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands.

"Nope," she said with a sigh. "I told them I would catch up later, that I wanted to stay because you seemed upset. Or some bullshit like that."

Loki could not suppress a smirk. He admired her manipulative capabilities and stalking manner. Though maddeningly bothersome to others, they were excellent traits to possess. He himself enjoyed them to their fullest extent.

"Cool. How 'bout a drink, then?" Tony asked, using Loki's forearm as support to stand. He slapped the god on the shoulder chummily and made for the liquor cabinet as if nothing unusual was taking place in his living room.

"I'm serious, Tony. What the fuck is going on?" Natasha asked, more snappy than usual. The man glanced in her direction but ignored her furious glare as he poured three generous glasses of scotch.

"A little early for that, perhaps?" Loki asked. Tony ignored him too.

"Alright, now, let's just sit down and relax for a second before we do anything hasty, sound good?" Tony asked, drinks in hand. He carefully made his way toward the marble countertop.

"_Tony!" _Natasha yelled, stomping her heavy boot to the floor. The sound made him stop in his tracks.

"The guy's been here for two days. Pointing your little gun at him isn't going to do anything, and I'm pretty sure he's not going to just disappear. Could you just humor me, please?"

The agent reluctantly lowered her weapon and rolled her eyes. They each came together at the bar and sat down, trying to act as civil as possible.

"Alright," she said with a huff. "Now tell me what's going on."

"Already?" the man asked, raising his glass. Loki eyed it tensely. "You haven't even tried the scotch. It's a great one; I bought it when I was in –"

He promptly shut his mouth as she threw her head back and finished the drink in one go. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and slammed the glass onto the bar, an impatient expression on her face.

"Alright, then…" Tony muttered, swirling the amber liquid in his hand. Loki tried his best to stifle laughter.

"It was okay. I would have preferred vodka," she quipped. "Now that I've politely taken a seat and accepted your gracious offering, will you finally tell me what the fuck this psychopath is doing here?"

Tony tapped his fingers noisily against the marble countertop. It was no use trying to tiptoe around it. Her ability to wring answers from people was mind-numbingly irritating. He sucked in a deep and dramatic breath as if to begin recounting an epic tale.

"I turned up unannounced, as I like to do, in need of Mr. Stark's help," Loki began, nonchalantly. "He reluctantly obliged, but I now plan to be on my way and out of your hair as soon as possible. It is a lengthy and tedious account, and I would hate to waste your valuable time attempting to recall every subtle detail for your records. However, I can guarantee that I will not bother you again."

Tony finally released the air from his lungs, relieved to have avoided spouting a word. He leaned back in his seat, waiting for some sort of reaction. The woman stared coldly into Loki's eyes, and if he didn't know any better, he might have ventured to guess that she made the god nervous. He raised his glass to his lips.

"I wouldn't do that," Loki muttered, emerald gaze still fixed to azure. Tony stopped suddenly and examined the liquid in his cup, setting it down gently.

Natasha's forehead wrinkled in confusion and she opened her mouth to speak.

"Shhhhh…" Loki whispered as he elegantly rose from his chair. He let his fingers drag across the marble as he leisurely strode toward her. The woman raised heavy hands toward her face and looked them over, shakily contracting them into fists. Her confusion turned to nervous anger.

"It will not last long, I assure you," he murmured, craning over to bring their faces level. He methodically examined her facial features, drinking in each minute contraction. Though his expression was vacant, she could sense a smile behind his eyes.

Tony gulped. He did not enjoy this side of Loki. The trickster's stunts and controlling manipulations put him on edge, and he suddenly remembered why he'd been so wary trust him.

"What did you do?" Tony asked, attempting to mask the apprehension in his voice.

"It is nothing dangerous… I am simply making certain that she gives me her full attention." The smirk finally spread across Loki's face. "You _are_ listening, aren't you dear?"

The agent's piercing glare was sharp enough to kill, and only caused the Asgardian's grin to expand.

"I do apologize, however, as I did not expect you to consume it in its entirety."

Natasha's eyes narrowed. She felt weak, yet conscious. Her movements were sluggish and heavy, yet not entirely inhibited. She expected paralysis but instead felt… _calm_. She briefly wondered if the sensation was similar to what Clint had experienced, but quickly shook the thought from her mind. Someday she would make Loki pay for what he'd done.

She recoiled as he drew nearer. He was intimidating. He was in his element. He was in control.

"Excellent. Now, Miss Romanoff, I am only going to say this once, so please do not nod off on me." He took her head in his hands and she winced at the icy touch. He leaned forward until their faces were mere inches apart.

Tony felt a scorching sensation course through his bones. Loki's touch was too tender; it was too affectionate. A wave of jealousy swelled within him, and he tore his eyes away.

"Look at me, Agent Romanoff. Do you see these scars?" the god whispered. The words were breathy and soft, and Tony strained to hear them.

Natasha's eyes ventured over Loki's features until they settled upon the thin, rosy lips. She examined the faint marks around his mouth, barely visible. A small flinch established in her vaguely responsive muscles, and he knew she understood that they were inflicted against his will.

"Do you know who did this to me?" the god continued, almost inaudibly. She lethargically shook her head, though she had an idea. He scoffed and stepped away, wiping his hands on his coat. "Stand up, Agent Romanoff. You're resilient enough, aren't you?"

She raised her head to meet his gaze and blinked. Her body did not want to function, but she was determined to rise to the challenge. Her movements were sluggish and clumsy as she tried to get her footing. Her body pulsed in a way that was almost euphoric. She felt drunk, yet comprehensible. Though her anger persisted, the fear was absent. She gripped the counter tightly in her hands and stood.

"How do you feel?" he asked, hand outstretched. The woman eyed it suspiciously.

"Fine," she replied. The sound surprised even her. She licked her lips and stretched her fingers, still feeling intoxicated. The god nodded and lowered his arm, understanding that she would not take his hand.

"In the end, it really does not matter who did this to me. It does not matter what happened at all. The significance of this lies in the fact that your beloved Iron Man is the only being in existence to have given me a second chance, and that is why I am here. The beauty in all of this is that I do not _have_ to tell you anything. You do not need to know. The tiny details of my predicament, say, the specific volume of blood loss I endured, or the velocity of my fist as it collided into most of these appliances, or the number of scars that grace Tony Stark's body –" She stole a glance toward the billionaire as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "—they do not concern you. You will leave here, and when you do, you will speak of this to no one. I will depart on my own accord. I will not be gathered up and shipped away to Asgard against my will, not again. Not where I will have my _LIPS SEWN SHUT upon arrival!_" The last words came out as an enraged scream and the woman staggered backward. She tried to look away, but those fiercely radiant eyes would not allow it. It was as if the air had been squeezed from her lungs. A strangling feeling of anguish overcame her, somehow transferred through his stare.

"The effects will soon be gone," he murmured, regaining his composure. He stepped toward her gracefully and placed an icy palm against the small of her back. She gasped at the touch and felt her knees buckle. He scooped her into his arms effortlessly and walked her to the living room, gently lowering her onto the couch. He knelt down and placed the tips of his fingers against her cheek.

"He is the only one that wants me," he quietly whispered in her ear. A devastating ache was evident in his voice.


	19. What a Waste

Loki cracked his neck in satisfaction as he felt his powers strengthening. He'd effectively transported himself and the agent to her safe haven without even causing a stir.

"You will be fine soon enough, Agent Romanoff," he whispered, an air of aversion in his tone. He hated the woman for spying on him when he was most vulnerable. He would never be able to escape her judgment. He wanted desperately to wake her and teach her a lesson, to frighten and torture her, undeniably proving that he is not a force to be reckoned with. If he did so, however, Tony would never forgive him. He would have to play nice.

He gently placed her in the modest bed and lazily sat down, brushing the vibrant hair from her eyes. The glossy curls framed her pale face beautifully, and she seemed so peaceful. What a stunning façade. Few would believe the mangled past behind her sapphire eyes, nor the manipulative talents she possessed. She was so far from innocence, but appeared wholly angelic. Though her spirit was strong, she was still only a fragile mortal.

He shook his head at the thought. What a waste.

He stood and covered her with the blanket before leisurely strolling to the window. "Goodnight," he mouthed.

Natasha awoke with a gasp and she gripped her chest. She blinked frantically as she scanned the room, heart pounding. Realizing where she was, she reached under the pillow and retrieved her gun, pointing it in the darkness.

She cautiously grasped at the cold metal ornament hanging from her lamp and tugged. The sensation sent a chill up her arm and reminded her of Loki's freezing touch. The light flickered on and she confirmed that she was alone in her bedroom.

Wiping the beads of sweat from her forehead, she stretched out her arms and realized that she was not as sore as usual. She cracked her knuckles and reached for her phone, feeling surprisingly energized.

_ARE YOU OK? -TONY_

She sighed as she recalled the details of their encounter, realizing she was lucky to be alive. Had Loki taken her to her own bed? Why did he spare her? The questions were dizzying.

_I'M FINE._


	20. Trouble

Tony threw his phone aside and fell back against the pillow. "Well, you didn't kill her, so that's a plus." Loki scoffed and joined him, perching at the foot of the bed. "You can't just do stuff like that. She's a S.H.I.E.L.D agent. You aren't safe here, especially now. You know that, don't you?"

"Of course I do," the god replied matter-of-factly.

"I can't trust you when you pull that kind of shit. Of all the ways you could have handled that…"

Loki breathed a disappointed sigh, cursing himself for not recognizing her presence before revealing himself. If he would have waited only a moment longer…

"That's what she's trained to do," Tony assured, as if he knew what he was thinking. The god nodded regretfully.

"I will be leaving tonight," Loki said finally. "It will take her the rest of the evening to decide on a course of action. Besides, Miss Potts is due back sometime tomorrow." Noting the man's curious gaze, he smiled. "How long until you realize that I know everything?"

Tony laughed at the notion. "Of course. How stupid of me."

The room fell silent and Tony caught himself frowning. Normally he would be pleased to be rid of the egotistical bastard, but he was finally beginning to trust him, despite the drugging of one Natasha Romanoff. He was finally beginning to believe that he had something more to offer than cruelty and deceit. After all, he did deliver her to safety with his own two hands. He was simply trying to protect their secret the only way he knew how.

Somehow, the fact that the god knew so much about him was almost comforting. Loki could understand the concept of being gawked at and criticized all his life, and, though extremely misled, he really just needed someone to care. He could not explain the god's sporadic torrents of cries any other way. He enjoyed the way Loki melted into his arms. It made him feel like he could protect someone, even without his suit of armor.

"Are you alright?" Tony asked finally. The question seemed to catch Loki off guard.

"Yes, I'm fine," the god replied.

"Why don't I believe you?"

Loki nervously played with his hands. Though the man was unpredictably comforting, he was reluctant to admit more than he already had. "I am the God of Lies, am I not?" He forced a smile. The man was not amused.

"I'm not really sure where you've been for the past two days, but from what I remember, you turned up in my kitchen with some pretty bad wounds, courtesy of Point Break. You bunked over, you spent the day with me, and then seduced me. That doesn't seem like the natural workings of my sworn enemy in his right mind, but I guess I've been wrong before."

Loki shifted uncomfortably.

"What else did they do to you?" Tony asked. The god remained silent for a few moments.

"I was sentenced to ordinary punishments." Loki noted the man's curious expression before continuing. "I was placed in solitary confinement, still bearing that atrocious muzzle. I am not certain for how long. Sometime after, I was released, yet still not permitted to speak."

"Is that where your brother came in?"

"Not quite." Loki winced. "Some time passed prior to that… _incident_. I got into a bit of trouble beforehand."

Tony nodded, unsurprised.

"I was to inform Thor of my whereabouts constantly. He was my keeper, and I never quite became accustomed to it. I was punished more severely each time I neglected to make my presence obvious. I still am not sure why they cared so much. I was usually too weak to leave Asgard anyway; I could never have gone very far. And when I did, I typically ended up here, if only for a few moments time."

"What happened?"

Loki's eyes grew dull and he gazed off into the distance. He chewed his lip, obviously not wanting to continue.

"I did nothing wrong," the god mumbled. He felt tears welling in his eyes and he glanced away quickly. His cheeks were flushed in embarrassment.

"Loki?" Tony sat upright. He felt a great desire to pull the Asgardian close and comfort him like a child, despite the fact that he was a known merciless criminal.

"They always assumed me to be scheming. I assured them that I was not, but they had no reason to believe me. I think Thor wanted to." The god cracked his knuckles absentmindedly as his eyes scanned the ceiling. "He was always relaying messages. Odin never saw to me personally. He sent Thor to do the talking, and to do the dirty work. If his secondhand information led him to believe I was stepping out of line, he would order Thor to…" He shook his head. "I would not be surprised if his hands were still stained with my blood."

Tony moved over slightly and patted the mattress beside him, beckoning Loki over. The god glanced over his shoulder.

"I do not need your pity, Stark."

"You assume the worst of people. That's why nobody likes you," Tony replied, winking. Loki rolled his eyes and reluctantly drew nearer. He felt a familiar warmth spread over his body as Tony wrapped an arm around his shoulder, and he could not help but give in to the touch.

"Eventually they'd had enough, I suppose," Loki continued. He closed his eyes. "Odin threatened to have my lips sewn together if I continued to ignore his orders and undermine his punishments. The act seemed too callous and contrived, even for him. Apparently my disbelief was my downfall." His body was drawn to the man's warmth like a magnet. His lip twitched, and he could almost taste the metallic liquid in his mouth as he recalled the incident. "After an unsurprisingly brief struggle with Thor, I was pinned down by that wretched hammer. I shamelessly screamed and begged for him to reconsider. He held my head against the floor and shoved the needle into my skin slowly, repeatedly, until the task was complete, so that he could return to his father with the excellent news. I feigned helplessness until I was left unguarded and used all of the power I had left to transport myself here. I am lucky to have made it. I honestly did not believe I would be able to."

"You said you were leaving tonight. Where would you go? And how would you get there?"

"I will return to Asgard. As you can imagine, it is not the most desirable plan. Sadly, I would not be safe anywhere else, your planet included. The Chitauri still hunt me. They would have my head if they were merciful creatures, but I feel as though torture is more likely. I would rather be mocked by the Allfather than slowly ripped to pieces."

"It seems like you have a knack for getting into trouble," said Tony, subconsciously playing with the god's tresses.

"Yes, but it can be so fun sometimes," Loki replied with a grin, remembering the times he'd successfully pranked Thor when they were children. He missed the days when they were innocent youngsters - simply brothers playing together late into the night… the days before Thor began to surpass him in strength and their father's favor. The days before it became clear to himself and those around him that he was not destined to be king.

Loki's eyes fluttered shut as the man toyed with his hair, gently stroking the back of his neck as he pulled his fingers through the messy locks. He did not want to dwell on his artificial family. He wanted to savor the moment. A jagged sigh escaped his lips and Tony smiled.

"I know what you mean," the man replied. Following rules was never his style. Perhaps that's what drew him to Loki's presence in the first place. The god was off-limits; he was forbidden. The risk surrounding him was so… _attractive_. He felt like a daredevil or a storm hunter; it was like he was constantly being tested, and he loved it. Loki kept his mind racing and his heart pumping, and made him feel so alive. He was in a dry spell and tired of the monotonous daily routine. The tedious press conferences and passionless calculations bored him, and he yearned for some spontaneity… he craved a little danger.

Tony carefully touched his face to the god's head and breathed in the invigorating scent of cool mint that seemed to seep from his silky hair. Loki responded by pressing his cheek against Tony's shoulder.

"You mentioned something about regret?" Loki inquired, eyes still closed as he absorbed the man's warmth.

"That might have been a little hasty." Tony chuckled.

"Does this mean you've reconsidered?"

"I think so. Though I'm still not totally convinced," the man replied, smiling.

"What would it take to persuade you?" Loki murmured. There was a familiar velvetiness in his tone. Tony licked his lips. The sound was too alluring; it was almost unnatural. The more he wanted to believe that it was some sort of enchantment, the less he actually did. The more time that passed, the more he realized he actually enjoyed Loki's company. In fact, he always had. He could have been rid of the trickster long ago if he truly wanted to, yet he continued to play the game. He always felt as though the god favored him in some way, but never imagined the presumption to be accurate.

"Did you have something in mind?" he asked, biting his lip.

Tony inhaled deeply through his nose as a gentle hand brushed against his leg.


	21. Adapting

"Loki," Tony started as he tilted his head back. The god was on top of him now, straddling him as playfully as a happy-go-lucky new girlfriend (or likelier one night stand). "Has anyone ever told you how goddamn sexy you are?"

The god chuckled, amused. "No, not really," he replied.

"I find that hard to believe."

"Well, perhaps once or twice," Loki added, mouth tightening as he subdued an outright grin. He would be lying if he claimed not to have courted many on Asgard. Though he was not the chosen one, he was still a prince, which was just as good as a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. The corners of his lips curved into an innocent smirk and the man sighed, basking in its splendor.

"I don't want you to leave tonight," Tony whispered, pressing his forehead to Loki's chest.

"So you _are_ warming to me, then."

"Maybe just a little," the man replied, burying his face into the soft leather armor. It smelled clean and new, and _expensive_. "You're interesting." Though he wholeheartedly meant it, he didn't entirely intend to say it. The words came out before he could filter them, and he was unsure whether he'd offended the god since the nimble fingers in his hair stopped moving. "It's a good thing," he said quickly.

"I'm _Interesting?_" Loki repeated, a vague unpleasantness in his tone.

"Don't be so dramatic. Cut me some slack; it means I like you."

The god snorted and, to Tony's relief, returned to tangling his hands in the messy brown locks.

"I suppose it would be untruthful if I was to say I did not enjoy your company," Loki continued. There was a lulling quality to his voice. It was delicate and tender, like soothing music to Tony's ears. He pressed himself further into the god's chest, wondering if he could ever get close enough.

"We are quite alike, you and I," Loki muttered. He chewed his lip. "You needn't worry, however. We are dissimilar in ways that are advantageous to you. You are one of the most successful beings on your planet, whereas I am a failed antagonist… a prisoner." Tony timidly looked up. "I know it discomforts you, the parallels between us. You are not inherently evil, Tony Stark. Some would argue that I am not either, despite the violent disposition of my true parentage. You turned your life around."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that my fate has already been established and that you need not busy yourself drawing comparisons. You have heart."

Tony wondered if the god could read minds. It was true that he often dwelled on his past as the Merchant of Death. Could he ever forgive himself?

"It's not too late to change your fate, Loki."

The thought process escaped him as icy hands caressed his face and soft lips pressed against his forehead. He shivered.

"You're always so cold," the man breathed.

"Yes. I used to think it odd when I was growing up, but it all makes sense now," Loki chuckled. "But it doesn't take much to warm me up," he added lustily.

The obvious invitation had Tony beaming from ear to ear. He pressed their lips together hastily.

Loki's tongue was like velvet as it effortlessly breached his mouth. The trickster teasingly nipped at the man's supple lips before pressing further into the kiss. Tony breathed deeply through his nose and let his hands rest on Loki's narrow waist, squeezing gently.

To the man's surprise, the god dropped his shoulder to the bed and pulled Tony on top of himself. He spread his legs open so that the man could press against him fully, and they fit together like a glove. Loki hooked his legs around the strong body above him, never breaking their passionate kiss.

Something had changed since their last interaction. Though he may not have admitted to even the faintest trace of sobriety at the time, Tony knew he was not blackout drunk when the god seduced him. Though hazy, he was at least aware enough to realize that Loki drew power from his domination, the supremacy feeding his confidence. It seemed unlike the Asgardian to allow him to take the reins so freely, so soon. There was something so sexy about it. It was such a simple act, but given the god's stature and high opinion of himself, it was the ultimate ego-boost, not to mention the ultimate turn-on.

He couldn't undress quickly enough.

Loki grinned at the man's frustration before discarding their clothes with magic. Tony sighed and shook his head, mind too cloudy with desire to have even realized the option. Shedding that much leather and metal by hand would surely have taken several epochs.

The man took a few moments to appreciate such a divine figure. It was so dim the previous night, and his excitement swelled at the thought of being able to savor the god's breathtaking physique in all of its glory, in all of its minute movements and contractions, illuminated by the sun as it poured through the windows unrestrained. He was slender, but extremely fit. The silky skin was a vivid white, and there were faint traces of scars that never quite disappeared written across his ribcage.

Loki licked his lips. He fought away the color that crept across his cheeks as the mortal eyed him thoroughly, surprisingly abashed. He was the God of Mischief. He was elegant, intellectual… _tall. _What was this strange nervousness that suddenly overcame him? He wondered if it was actually a decent plan to place himself beneath the mortal. Perhaps he was being too symbolic.

Loki placed his hands against the man's sturdy waist, which promptly shivered. Aside from the quiet hiss and breathy chortle, Tony did not protest. It was always the same challenge. Loki's icy touch often put his past partners on edge. Its reasoning was at the time inexplicable, and many felt it moderately discomforting. Though he still drew pleasure from these encounters, there was something disheartening about the prospect of women recoiling against his touch as he attempted to bed them.

"Sorry," Loki breathed. He was definitely being too metaphorical. Something about the man towering over him made him feel so small. He'd never apologized for it before. It was unfair; it was beyond his control.

Tony pressed their bodies together delicately. "I like it," he whispered into the god's ear. Loki immediately melted into the man's arms. He hadn't heard that one before.

Tony grinned before licking at the god's smooth neck, delicately tracing a line to his collar bone. The grip on his waist became tighter, and he softly bit at the supple flesh. The god shuddered as he snaked down the slender body, dragging his fingers across the perfectly carved muscles in his chest. He placed butterfly kisses across Loki's stomach and felt dexterous fingers tug at his hair.

Loki's heart pounded in his chest as the man neared his member, already stiff and begging to be handled. He inhaled sharply and his head fell back against the pillow as Tony lightly kissed his thighs. The man was teasing him relentlessly, placing his hands and lips in every feasible location except his aching hard-on.

Tony's deliberately meticulous movements were making him dizzy. He chewed at the inside of his cheek, fighting the urge to start begging. He just wanted something, anything. He needed it.

Loki gasped suddenly and his jaw fell open as the man took him in his mouth. Tony sucked at his throbbing member and traced circles around the head, a movement that made the god's eyes roll back. The man was alert, energized, and sober. The clumsiness of the prior night had dissipated, leaving only a very determined, very sexy, Tony Stark.

The man was confident. He was in his element - sex was his forte. The fact that he was working with some different equipment didn't matter; he was good at adapting. He prided himself on leaving no woman unsatisfied, and this was simply a new challenge. The fact that he'd become so attracted to the god, so involved in such a short amount of time, made his success even more imperative.

He stroked the hilt softly as he pressed the god's member further into his mouth, trying not to choke on its considerable mass. He promptly abandoned any plans on deep-throating; he would just have to let Loki keep the upper-hand on that.

Tony dragged his palms across the god's abdomen and dug his fingers into the algid flesh as he tongued the throbbing appendage in his mouth hungrily.

Loki's breathing became ragged. The man's fingers felt like hot metal against his skin, branding him with their touch. His elbows burrowed into the mattress as he arched his back, gently rocking his hips to press further into the warm cavern. A delighted smirk stretched across his face as the man gagged on his length, and he moaned in response.

"Will you fuck me, Tony Stark?" Loki whispered entrancingly. The man gingerly released the hard member from his mouth and smiled approvingly before teasingly licking at the delicate underside once more.

Loki wrapped long fingers behind the man's neck and pulled him into a violent kiss, tasting himself. He reached forward and grabbed Tony's erection, stroking it to its full potential. He smiled into the kiss as he viciously bit and sucked at the bruised lips.

"Now. Before I change my mind," Loki murmured as he pulled Tony's body closer still with his legs. The man promptly obliged.

Tony cautiously pressed into the god, who was slick and tight and _amazing_. There were no preparations to be made, which he quickly attributed it to some sort of brilliantly convenient sorcery. He didn't need to know the specifics.

The man gradually quickened his pace as the hands on his neck grew more vice-like. He admired the stunning figure below him, skin smooth as porcelain, hair black as night. The god's eyes were shut tightly and he chewed at his lip, quiet whimpers escaping his throat as Tony thrust into him harder. The sound was sexy and encouraging.

Loki's eyes slowly opened and traced the man's features, flushed and glistening in the heat of desire. They were a brilliant shade of green and were practically glowing. He gripped Tony's hair in one hand before tending to his own neglected manhood with the other, gently stroking the sensitive skin and breathing heavily.

Tony squeezed at the god's waist as he pounded into him forcefully, suddenly realizing that the flesh in his hand was no longer freezing to the touch. Loki's body was hot and slick against his own, full of fiery passion enough to warm him to the core. That alone was nearly enough to send him over the edge and he groaned loudly as he tried to hold back.

Tony quickly took Loki's throbbing member in his own hand and stroked at it hungrily, body quivering as he continued his thrusts. The god hissed loudly and writhed in overwhelming pleasure as he neared his peak. His heart pounded and he shut his eyes tightly as the man came inside him, and he felt his own muscles contract, reciprocating the intense sensation with a string of obscenities and a jagged whimper.

They struggled to catch their breath, and Tony fell flush against the god's skin, which was sticky and slick from his violent climax. He kissed at Loki's warm neck, and noticed it rapidly cooling to its common temperature.

They tiredly separated and cleaned themselves off, eyelids heavy, bodies still quivering in the aftermath. Tony laid sleepily in the center of the bed, limbs sprawled out haphazardly. Loki timidly sat nearby.

"Come here," the man whispered, eyes still closed. The god smiled discretely before joining him.

Loki barely grazed the man's skin before he was pulled into a tight embrace, and he buried his face into Tony's warm chest. Gentle fingers stroked his hair and he subconsciously moaned in delight. He wrapped his arm across the strong torso and drifted to sleep.


	22. You're Dangerous

An orange glow poured through the windows as the sun began to set. Loki stood, statuesque, peering out at the fiery strands of light that twisted through the buildings and reflected from their mirror-like exteriors. He would not make the mistake of leaving the building twice, but he was too restless to remain in bed. Tony had turned away in his sleep, releasing the god from his tender grasp. He was left alone and uncomfortable, too proud to request reentry into the man's arms.

Loki wrung his hands as he watched the sky grow dim; the rooftops were outlined in deep purple and blood red. He was expecting company.

He begrudgingly glanced down at himself. He'd taken a fitted green shirt from the man's drawer and paired it with his leather pants. He'd stuffed them into his boots awkwardly, and a miserable feeling of embarrassment began to twist in the pit of his stomach. He looked so out of place.

"I'm surprised you came back," he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. He glanced over his shoulder to find the Black Widow perched atop the bar, arms crossed. Right on time.

"Nice getup. Going clubbing?"

His eyes narrowed, though he did not understand what she meant.

"Where's Tony?" she asked, cocking her head to the side. "What did you do to him?"

"He is asleep."

"Bullshit."

Loki rolled his eyes. "Jarvis, where is Mr. Stark?"

"He is asleep in the bedroom, Mr. Laufeyson," the AI responded. Natasha saw the god's eye twitch at the mention of his surname.

"And have I done him any harm?"

"Not that I am aware of, sir."

A grin crept across the god's face as he turned toward her. He took a few strides in her direction, annoyed that she failed to withdraw from his advances.

"Thank you. Oh, and will you please notify me if he awakens?" he added, receiving an affirmative response.

"What are you planning?" she inquired, eyeing him closely.

"Currently? I am planning on returning to Asgard in the very immediate future," he replied, returning her intrusive glare. She appeared doubtful.

"Is he under some kind of spell? The same as you did to Hawkeye?" she asked, unable to believe that a man like Stark could be drawn to a criminal like Loki without some sort of unnatural influence governing his choices.

"What a rude thing to say. I take offense, Agent Romanoff. Am I not charming enough?" he replied, flashing a brilliant white smile. She did not find the situation as humorous as he.

"That's my friend in there. I don't know what you're up to, but I'm going to find out what it is. Somehow I doubt you're going anywhere tonight, especially back to your planet. Aren't you afraid of what Thor might do?" She'd provoked another twitch.

"I do not fear Thor," Loki stated simply, his words dripping with contempt.

"Those scars make me think otherwise."

The god took a low, forced breath. The woman was monumentally aggravating.

"You deserved it," she whispered. Her voice was devoid of emotion. There was no fear, nor anger. She said the words with such simplicity, such factuality. "After all of the innocent lives you destroyed, you deserved all of it."

Loki could no longer look into her eyes. He remembered their furious battle, the day the Chitauri descended in waves upon the city, leaving death and destruction in their path. He glanced toward the outdoor terrace, vividly remembering Thor's attempts to put an end to the murder with compassion and reason. He swallowed the lump in his throat. He could never admit such thoughts to another soul, but when he saw the horror and destruction taking place around him, when Thor forced him to see what he had instigated, he was not satisfied. He did not want it. Though he was spiteful and thirsty for power, he expected a kingship easily apprehended through fear-mongering and infrequent casualties. He did not expect the mortals to fight so valiantly. He did not expect a war.

"I have been punished for my crimes against your realm. Stark trusts that I have been met with adequate penalty, and that I do not wish to cause you more harm. I know that you trust him."

"No, Loki. I don't trust him. Not this time," she said coldly. "You're dangerous."

The agent hopped down from the countertop and slowly took a step closer, arms still folded in front of her. "When the two of you are done with your little puppy-love disaster and he breaks your damaged little heart, you're going to take it out on us."

"Love?" the god scoffed. "Love is for children, Agent Romanoff." She smirked.

"I thought he was the only one that wanted you."

He pursed his lips subconsciously, vexed. He knew she saw it. Suddenly, his condescending retorts, nonchalant phrases, and fighting quips… they died in his throat. He swallowed the shattered and disorderly words and simply stared. He couldn't stand the judgment in her eyes. He turned his back to her angrily and, perhaps, stupidly.

In what seemed to be an impossibly short amount of time for the woman to complete any sort of movement, strong hands wrapped around him from behind. The muscles in his stomach contracted at the touch, and the sharp fingers felt like white-hot metal ripping at his flesh. He had no armor to protect him, only a laughably thin piece of cloth to separate their skin.

"What are you hiding, Loki?" she whispered. Her voice was calm and distant, and his body tensed at the words. He clenched his jaw in concentration as he tried his best to appear unfazed by her curious actions. He scrambled to find some sort of explanation, some reason why she was clumsily holding onto him with dagger-like digits, so discomforting that it was as though the concept of affection had never been a part of her life. But it was not so. She was familiar with the idea as long as it got her what she wanted.

Loki's breathing hitched. He knew she heard it.

The fiery palms pressed against him roughly and he shivered, tightening his fists. He was certain she could feel his muscles constrict and his heart pound uneasily as he stood, frozen and thoroughly stunned to silence.

"You didn't hurt me. You could have, but you took me home," she murmured.

His eyes fluttered shut as her touch became delicate, and his knuckles began to loosen. He felt her supple breasts press against his back lightly and a hand snaked down to his hip, leaving a trail of sweltering heat. She lightly pressed her cheek against his spine.

It took warm breath against the flimsy shirt and nimble fingers tightening around his waist before he felt it. The mild ache of desire began to form below his belt, and he knew what she was trying to achieve. The innocence of the situation had perished.

"Tell me what you're doing," she breathed.

Loki turned around quickly, ripping her hands from his body. He was angry, embarrassed to have let her toy with him so long. He was a god, not a lowly mortal without restraint. She stood her ground, arms delicately falling to her sides. He was confused, angry, and frustrated.

Her eyes were bluer than the sky and brilliantly deceptive. Her radiant curls looked as soft as silk against her ivory complexion, and her rosy lips were plump and alluring. He gulped as he tried to will away the invasive throbbing, though clearly backpedaling by admiring her striking features.

Natasha took a step nearer and he fought the urge to cower. She stood nearly a foot shorter than he, yet she suddenly made him feel anxious with her presence. He tried to convince himself that she could not sense the vile desire he felt, the weak and shameful torment she inflicted upon him with her medieval tactics of lust and manipulation. The obstructive need persisted.

He narrowed his eyes and grinded his teeth, attempting to convey superiority and revulsion in her feeble efforts.

"You can't hide it, Loki. I can persuade you."

At that, she reached out and placed a palm against his zipper. He felt the air escape from his lungs and his stomach turned at the thought of her reveling in her accomplishment. His arousal was more than apparent and the corner of her lip curved upward subtly with satisfaction.

"Enough!" he spat. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it pierced the silence as though it were a scream. He gripped her wrist tightly in his hand and she tried to pull away.

The agent's eyes widened as she struggled. The air around them grew cold, and she could see her breath as it escaped her lips. A searing pain crept up her arm and she realized that the god was emanating frost.

She feebly attempted to choke him with her free hand, but the attempt was futile. Tears welled in her eyes as the burning worsened and her skin turned a sickly shade of purple. She whimpered and fell to her knees before he released her from his grasp.

Natasha cradled her arm in her hand delicately, wincing in agony. Her wrist was covered in painful red and yellow blotches that began to blister.

Loki looked down at her, teeth bared in fury and disbelief. He took deep, ragged breaths.

"You're dangerous," she muttered, shaking her head.

"So are you," he replied.


	23. Panic

Natasha sat atop the bar, shivering. Her injured arm was outstretched and Loki held onto it gently.

There were no words exchanged. They stared into each other's eyes, still filled with distrust and distaste for one another.

Slowly, she began to regain the feeling in her fingers. The searing pain began to dissipate as his tender hands worked their way up her arm, and the discolored splotches faded. Her brows furrowed at the touch and she avoided glancing at her arm, fearful of what she might see. Instead, she focused her gaze deeper into the emerald eyes that seemed to dull as he healed her wounds.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. There was no reply. "I panicked."

The agent scoffed.

Loki rolled his eyes and released her arm. She wiggled her fingers and clenched her fist before breathing a sigh of relief.

"Thank you," she muttered, almost inaudibly. He nodded.

"I am not planning anything, Agent Romanoff," he said as he sat on a stool in front of her. "I know you don't believe me, but I don't care. I came here out of sheer desperation, and Tony helped me."

She avoided his gaze.

"It's true, what I said. He is the only one that wants me."

Natasha glanced upward to see the god's face awash with misery. His glassy eyes were affixed to the countertop.

"I do not wish to return to Asgard, but I've accepted the fact that I will have to. I haven't been here long, but I've managed to cause a bit of a mess. If your 'Avengers' were to find out…" He shook his head. "They would never trust him again. Just like you."

The room fell silent and they avoided each other's eyes.

"Sir, Mr. Stark is awake." The AI startled them both. "He appears to be… less than enthusiastic that you are not there."

Natasha looked toward the god curiously, who pretended not to notice. Perhaps she would finally realize that his feelings were truly reciprocated.

"I won't tell them," she whispered.

Loki's forehead wrinkled in surprise. He opened his mouth to speak, but she silenced him. She quietly stepped down from the bar and took her leave, catching a glimpse of a smile on the god's face as she peeked over her shoulder.

Loki took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to shake the stubborn blush from his cheeks. His heart was still beating at a rapid pace, and he tried to settle himself. It was done. He'd gotten the nefarious woman off their backs, at least for the time being. Tony didn't need to know.


	24. And What Then?

"Of course you wake as soon as I leave. Forgive me, I was parched."

Loki leaned against the doorway holding a glass of water. An innocent smile stretched across his face as the man turned toward him.

Tony was sitting at the edge of the bed, shirtless and disheveled. The blanket lay haphazardly over his lap and he smiled, a glimmer of relief in his eye. He had been overcome with disappointment upon waking alone in his bed for the second time, cursing himself for giving Loki another chance. Fool me once…

"You stayed. Good. I was starting to feel like a catastrophic idiot," the man said with a chuckle. There was a glow about him. He was magnificently well rested and genuinely overjoyed to see Loki standing in his bedroom rather than off on his merry way after taking advantage of him. "You look good," he added, realizing the god's attire. The snug-fitting shirt flaunted his muscles, and the boots were a guilty pleasure. He wasn't exactly opposed to the leather pants either.

Loki looked down at himself shyly, forgetting the ridiculous outfit he'd thoughtlessly pieced together. He still wasn't sure what 'clubbing' was.

"We managed to sleep through half the day. No worries though, everything's better at night anyway," Tony said, gazing out the window with a grin.

"I have to go," Loki muttered quietly. The man quickly shifted his attention back toward the doorway, his smile fading.

"What do you mean?" he asked. There was a discernible pain in his tone, and though he attempted to sound perplexed, he knew exactly what the god meant.

"What will you do when your Pepper arrives in the morning?"

"I'll call her up now; I can tell her not to come," Tony replied quickly.

"And what then?"

The man shrugged impatiently. Perhaps if he ignored the situation, it would go away.

"Will you call her indefinitely with excuses as to why she should not return?" Loki queried before taking a sip of water. "Will you convince the Black Widow that I've taken my leave? Will Fury ignore Thor's assurance that I am indeed on Midgard? Will he simply give up on his search? They know I am in your realm, Tony. There is no doubt in my mind that Heimdall knows I am here."

A heavy silence filled the room as they contemplated the issue. Loki had already spent a great deal of the evening pondering, yet coming up short.

"I want to talk to Thor," Tony said finally. Loki's eyes grew wide.

"That is not an option," he quickly rebuked.

"It's most definitely an option," the man replied, suddenly standing with newfound purpose. Loki did not like the look in his eye nor the confidence in his stature. He would not be persuaded otherwise.


	25. Worthy of Affection

Loki paced the room nervously. His movements were erratic.

"What have you done?" he muttered frantically.

"It's going to be ok, Loki… I promise." Tony tried his best to sound reassuring, hoping he'd made the right decision. However, the more he watched the god's distressed behavior, the more he began to assume the worst.

"You said we would lay low. I thought that you would protect me."

The anxious words sounded forced and hysterical, and Tony couldn't help but wince. He was supposed to be Loki's defender. He was supposed to comfort the god, and yet he was throwing him into something he never wanted to be a part of.

A familiar booming sound erupted outside, causing the god to jump.

"Always with the thunder," Tony muttered, rubbing his forehead. "Showoff."

"I can't," Loki whispered wearily. The man lifted his gaze and their eyes met for the first time since he'd made the call. "I can't do this."

"Loki—"

"No," the god interrupted. His heart felt like it might explode. He was in panic mode. He was ashamed of himself, pacing the room like a child. He began to walk away as the door flew open behind him, and The God of Thunder entered from the terrace.

Loki slowly turned on the spot, eyes timidly working their way up from Thor's heavy black boots to his pale blue eyes. They pierced his own like sharpened knives, and he immediately began to shake away the flashbacks of his torture.

"Hello," Loki greeted awkwardly. _Hello_? He wanted to die.

"Brother," Thor replied. Loki's eye twitched.

"Glad you could make it," Tony began, stepping between their awkward salutations. "How was your trip? Care for a drink?"

"I do not wish to partake in your Midgardian substances, Man of Iron," the blonde replied, eyes still affixed to his brother.

"I'll take one," Loki said hastily as he backed away. The man nodded and started toward the cabinet.

"No he will not," Thor bellowed. Tony glanced over his shoulder, about to scoff.

"On second thought, I will not," Loki muttered. The man's eyes narrowed and the smirk quickly faded from his face. The trickster's demeanor was all wrong. It was timid and lifeless, and his face was screwed up in a forced mask of pure indifference. He'd become a shell of himself in Thor's presence. There were no snarky comebacks. There were no threats. There was nothing behind his emerald eyes.

"He's a big boy, I'm sure he'll do fine with one scotch. I'll go light on the pour," Tony said playfully, trying to lighten the mood.

"I'm fine," Loki assured, clearing his throat. He had already proven his weakness in less than a minute. There was no coming back from this humiliation. Somehow he hoped it would be easier than this to face his 'brother.' Despite the violence and distrust between them on Asgard, he always kept his wits about him. He still had his silver tongue and his self-righteous disposition. But now, suddenly, he could not subdue the memories. He could take the beatings and the suspicion, but Thor had taken it too far. Thor performed the ultimate betrayal, and he realized that his face was not the only thing left scarred. He could no longer look into the sapphire eyes without seeing his own reflection, broken and bloodied in a crumpled mess on the floor.

Tony's heart sank. He suddenly realized he'd made a mistake. He never expected Thor to be particularly happy, but he didn't think he would be this stern. The situation made him sick to his stomach. He wanted to hold Loki in his arms, but knew the trickster would not allow such a thing to happen in Thor's presence.

"What are you doing here, Loki?" The Avenger's voice was low and gruff, as if it hadn't been in much use as of late. The air around them was heavy and solemn, and Tony begged the trickster for something clever, something sarcastic, _anything._

"I—" Loki started, eyes lowered. "I… I don't know…" The words quivered ever so slightly and fell just short of a stutter. The lifeless response left Tony disappointed, and somehow seemed to have the same effect on the blonde interrogator. Thor's brow furrowed in what could only be presumed to be shame, and he frowned.

"Has he caused you any harm, Stark?"

The two stared at each other, and Tony caught a glimpse of Loki's scowl in his peripheral vision. The slender figure seemed to sink further into the shadows, and he suddenly felt like a parent conversing about a misbehaving child. Everything was all wrong.

"I know what happened," Tony muttered. Thor's lip twitched and he looked away suddenly. "Your brother showed up here covered in bruises and blood. We sent him back to Asgard with you to face charges, not to be tortured." Thor shamefully glanced in the direction of the younger god. He appeared smaller.

"The Allfather—"

"I don't give a shit what the Allfather said, you fucking sewed his mouth shut!"

Again the room fell silent. There was a fire in Tony's eyes, and he was suddenly overcome with a protective instinct. He needed to bring Loki justice. His entire body ached for it and his heart pounded with new determination. This wasn't about him anymore.

"I did not wish to do it. I am regretful." Thor's voice did not vibrate the walls, nor did it even fill the room at all. It was quiet and timid, and _gentle._ Such a thing seemed impossible. "I was wrong to listen to my father. I should not have followed his orders."

"You will always follow his orders" came a small voice from across the room. Loki was sitting against the wall, hugging his knees.

"Brother, I—"

"You know my words to be true, Odinson. Wherever he leads, you will blindly follow. I thought you cared for me."

"And yet you care not for me!" The thunder had returned to the god's voice as he spat out the words, angry and wounded. "I tried, Loki! I warned you, but you would not listen! You, who locked me in a cage and tossed me out from the sky! You who would have me killed! After that, you are concerned with my supposed negligence?"

"I knew you would not be harmed, _brother._ I recognize your boundless strength far better than anyone in these realms. You are a god amongst mortal men, Thor. That pathetic device could not contain you."

Amid the fury and betrayal, there was a faint smile behind the blonde's eyes. Loki had complimented him, albeit in a cryptic and twisted manner.

"I have spoken to Father. I told him that I have come for you, and that I mean to bring you home."

A grimace crept across Loki's lips. He knew it was coming. He planned for it, yet it had seemed so distant before. He did not want to return to Asgard. He was finally beginning to feel something close to approval, something that wasn't constant anguish.

"I do not wish to go back. Look at me. Have you not done enough?" Loki's eyes burned with tears and his brow quivered. He stared at the figure before him, begging for consideration, seeing only the side of his face as he avoided contact. "_Look at me_!" he shrieked, unable to contain himself any longer. His cheeks felt wet and his fists were clenched as he rigidly sat, chest heaving with uneven breath.

Thor's glassy eyes finally met his own, and the armor-clad god's shoulders dropped.

"I mean to bring you home as a brother, not as a prisoner," Thor added, taking a step forward.

Loki swallowed roughly. His throat was dry and his emotions were spent. He did not know how to handle everything being thrown at him. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or suspicious, willing or indifferent. He just wanted to rest his head on the cool mattress and soft pillows, enveloped in Tony's accepting arms.

"Alright," he whispered. It came out breathy and weak, but audible enough. He sounded timid and defeated.

"If he's not a prisoner, can he come and go whenever he wants?" Tony spoke finally. He'd been gripping a glass full of scotch in his hand tightly as he observed the situation. The ice was melted. Sensing hesitation, he frowned. "It's a yes or no question."

"Yes."

"Then I want him to stay tonight."

A smile flashed on Loki's face before he could hide it. He wondered if anyone noticed.

"You would offer to have him stay?" Thor asked curiously. He had arrived on the assumption that Tony was trying to be rid of the trickster.

"Am I not worthy of anyone's affections?" Loki spat. He bit his lip hurriedly, but it was too late. The words had escaped him. Thor was never particularly bright, and he wondered if the implications of his statement were understood. He drew an awkward glance from both of them, and Thor had a knowing look in his eye.

"I did not mean to suggest that, brother," the blonde replied solemnly. "If that is what the two of you wish… Yes, of course he may stay." There was a faint hesitation in the god's voice, and Loki knew he was disobeying Odin's orders. An odd feeling crept through his stomach, and he attributed it to bizarre optimism. Thor was trying to redeem himself.

"Thor," Loki started, a wobble in his voice. "I am sorry." He gnawed at the insides of his cheeks, realizing his efforts to hold back tears were fruitless. His eyes wandered timorously up Thor's armored limbs and settled upon his bristly face.

"As am I, brother," he said quietly.

He nodded at them both and took his leave.


	26. Sentimental

He should have been relieved. He should have been thankful, content, and alleviated. But he wasn't. No matter how hard he tried, he could not overcome the embarrassment and distress that crawled through his veins. He was not used to this. Callous, malicious, dismissive… he understood how to be those things. He knew what it meant to be overlooked or torn apart, but never trusted. He understood pain.

But there he sat, melting into Tony Stark's arms, eyes shut tightly and cheeks wet with unrestrained emotion. The ache had finally grown too large to be locked away and masked with spiteful threats and cruel retorts. As much as he hated it, as much as he tried to fight it off, he knew that he had been broken. The man turned him soft and he crumbled in his brother's presence, suddenly craving acceptance over violence. He needed support, and the man delivered.

He opened his eyes warily and blinked away the tears that blurred his vision. They were on the floor in a tangled mess after a minor scuffle. The man had only tried to hold him, to comfort him. He struggled.

He felt his breath become steady and deep, finally calming after his brief meltdown. He vaguely recalled the pitiful echo of fragile sobs, no doubt resounding from his own throat. He brought a cautious hand to his face and rubbed his eye. He scowled in disgust at his glistening fingertips and promptly wiped them on his shirt. "Pathetic," he muttered.

"Stop it," the man said quickly, shaking his head.

Loki scoffed. He didn't care anymore. He wasn't concerned with the mess he had become. He never did have a shoulder to cry on; how could he have known it would make him so weak? With the man's arms around him he felt everything he'd attempted to suppress come back all at once. The humiliation, the disrespect, the constant shadow… he never dwelled on it before. He fed off of the neglect and turned it into hate. It transformed into a burning destructive rage that he couldn't stop if he tried. But suddenly, for the first time, the overwhelming fury had degenerated to a manageable degree. Instead of his sadness evolving into hatred, it simply escaped. It drained from him in the form of strained whimpers and stifled sobs against Tony's chest, and he didn't know how to control it.

"I'm sorry," Loki murmured quietly. He felt the hot breath of a sigh graze his face, and he shuddered.

"Don't be."

Calloused hands came to rest on his cheekbones and he finally gazed into the man's dark, glassy eyes. They searched his own for some reassurance, and he forced his lips to contort into a lackluster smile. The sobs were dissipating. Tony nodded before running warm fingers through the god's icy hair and kissing his forehead.

"You'll come back, right?" Tony asked softly.

"Feeling sentimental, are we?"

"Of course not," the man scoffed. He stared into the glistening emerald orbs and beamed. "I just don't like being forgotten about. It's an ego thing."

"Well, I wouldn't want to damage that," Loki replied, a familiar smirk sneaking across his face. Despite the bloodshot eyes and flushed complexion, he was beginning to look like himself again. "I will absolutely come back to you, Tony Stark."

Their lips crashed together impatiently, and Loki moaned into the kiss.


	27. Soon

Morning arrived sooner than anticipated. They awoke in each other's arms, still on the floor, to the sound of Jarvis' voice as he alerted them of Pepper's return. She would arrive in a mere fifteen minutes.

Their words were scarce as they halfheartedly dressed themselves, Tony in blue jeans and a Black Sabbath tee, Loki in his signature armor, complete with cape and glimmering helmet. The crumpled mess from the previous night was a distant shadow in comparison to his current stately appearance. The only evidence of his breakdown was a rosy puffiness in his eyes.

"When will you be back?" Tony asked as he took a sip of coffee.

A smile spread across Loki's face, and he blushed. The man certainly knew how to make him feel wanted. It pained him to be leaving at all, but he had unfinished business to attend to in Asgard. A lot of unfinished business.

"Soon," he replied, pursing his lips in an attempt to fight away his grin. Tony beamed back at him realizing that the vibrant sparkle had returned to Loki's emerald eyes.

They finished their coffee and Jarvis informed them that Pepper had arrived. Loki nodded solemnly.

"If they don't treat you better, you come right back here. Got it?" Tony asked, placing a hand on the god's shoulder. Somehow, he knew that Thor would take care of him.

"Got it."

"Okay, good. I'll miss you."

The pesky smile returned to Loki's face, but he didn't fight it. It was genuine, and apparently contagious. He pulled the man into a kiss and tangled his fingers through the soft brown locks one last time before he had to depart. He savored the velvety tongue and the warm body against his own and sighed. He would be back very soon.

* * *

**So I think I've done it. This is where it wanted to end, so I let it. If there is enough support for it, I may write a sequel to this, but I feel as though it's gotten incredibly long chapter-wise to continue as a single fic. I've really enjoyed writing this and tried to make their characters evolve the best I could while retaining their individual personalities. I really appreciate the lovely reviews, and am so glad you liked it. I absolutely take them to heart and try to learn and grow from them, and you greatly motivated me to continue. You guys are amazing.**

**Thanks again!**


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